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MATURITY, VICTORY, HEAVEN

A DEFIANCE TO OLD AGE

Thou shalt not rob me, thievish Time,
Of all my blessings or my joy;
I have some jewels in my heart
Which thou art powerless to destroy.

Thou mayest denude mine arm of strength,
And leave my temples seamed and bare;
Deprive mine eyes of passion's light,
And scatter silver o'er my hair.

But never, while a book remains,
And breathes a woman or a child,
Shalt thou deprive me whilst I live
Of feelings fresh and undefiled.

No, never while the earth is fair,
And Reason keeps its dial bright,
Whate'er thy robberies, O Time,
Shall I be bankrupt of delight.

Whate'er thy victories o'er my frame,
Thou canst not cheat me of this truth:
That, though the limbs may faint and fail,
The spirit can renew its youth.

So, thievish Time, I fear thee not;
Thou'rt powerless on this heart of mine;
My precious jewels are my own,
'Tis but the settings that are thine.

--Charles Mackay.

SIMPLE FAITH

You say, "Where goest thou?" I cannot tell
And still go on. If but the way be straight
I cannot go amiss! Before me lies
Dawn and the Day! the Night behind me; that
Suffices me; I break the bounds; I see,
And nothing more; believe, and nothing less.
My future is not one of my concerns.

A MORNING THOUGHT

What if some morning, when the stars were paling,
And the dawn whitened, and the East was clear,
Strange peace and rest fell on me from the presence
Of a benignant Spirit standing near,

And I should tell him, as he stood beside me,
"This is our Earth--most friendly Earth, and fair;
Daily its sea and shore through sun and shadow
Faithful it turns, robed in its azure air;

"There is blest living here, loving and serving,
And quest of truth, and serene friendships dear;
But stay not, Spirit! Earth has one destroyer--
His name is Death; flee, lest he find thee here!"

And what if then, while the still morning brightened,
And freshened in the elm the summer's breath,
Should gravely smile on me the gentle angel,
And take my hand and say, "My name is Death."

--Edward Rowland Sill.

On parent knees, a naked, new-born child,
Weeping thou sat'st while all around thee smiled:
So live that, sinking in thy last long