Part 21 (2/2)

_Alfred, Lord Tennyson._

A TRAGIC STORY

There lived a sage in days of yore, And he a handsome pigtail wore; But wondered much and sorrowed more Because it hung behind him.

He mused upon this curious case, And swore he'd change the pigtail's place, And have it hanging at his face, Not dangling there behind him.

Said he, ”The mystery I've found,-- I'll turn me round.”-- He turned him round; But still it hung behind him.

Then round and round, and out and in, All day the puzzled sage did spin; In vain--it mattered not a pin-- The pigtail hung behind him.

And right, and left, and round about, And up, and down, and in, and out He turned; but still the pigtail stout Hung steadily behind him.

And though his efforts never slack, And though he twist, and twirl, and tack, Alas! still faithful to his back The pigtail hangs behind him.

_William M. Thackeray._

A CHRISTMAS CAROL

There's a song in the air!

There's a star in the sky!

There's a mother's deep prayer And a baby's low cry!

And the star rains its fire while the Beautiful sing, For the manger of Bethlehem cradles a king.

There's a tumult of joy O'er the wonderful birth, For the virgin's sweet boy Is the Lord of the earth.

Ay! the star rains its fire and the Beautiful sing, For the manger of Bethlehem cradles a king.

In the light of that star Lie the ages impearled; And that song from afar Has swept over the world.

Every hearth is aflame, and the Beautiful sing In the homes of the nations that Jesus is King.

We rejoice in the light, And we echo the song That comes down through the night From the heavenly throng.

Ay! we shout to the lovely evangel they bring, And we greet in his cradle our Saviour and King.

_J.G. Holland._

THE WONDERFUL WORLD

”Great, wide, beautiful, wonderful world, With the wonderful water round you curled, And the wonderful gra.s.s upon your breast,-- World, you are beautifully drest.

”The wonderful air is over me, And the wonderful wind is shaking the tree, It walks on the water, and whirls the mills, And talks to itself on the tops of the hills.

”You friendly Earth! how far do you go With the wheat-fields that nod and the rivers that flow, With cities and gardens, and cliffs, and isles And people upon you for thousands of miles?

”Ah, you are so great, and I am so small, I tremble to think of you, World, at all; And yet, when I said my prayers, to-day, A whisper inside me seemed to say, 'You are more than the Earth, though you are such a dot: You can love and think, and the Earth cannot!”

_William B. Rands._

n.o.bODY KNOWS

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