444 THE ORPHAN'S CHRISTMAS-TREE. Then, suddenly, there shone a light; Spake as he came and clearer, dearer, His voice made music in the night: "I am the Christ! have thou no fear! I hear and heed thy supplication, My saving Word to all I bear, And equally to each 'tis given ; I bring the promise of my care Here, in the street, beneath the heaven, As well as in the chambers there. "And here, poor boy, thy Christmas-tree The Christ-child with his shining hand THE ORPHAN'S CHRISTMAS-TREE. So far and yet so near! the night Was blazing with the tapers' splendor: What was the orphan boy's delight, How beat his bosom warm and tender, To see his Christmas-tree so bright! It seemed to him a happy dream; Then, from the starry branches bending, The orphan child is now at rest: No father's care he needs, nor mother's, Upon the Christ-child's holy breast. All that is here bestowed on others He there forgets, where all is best. BAYARD TAYLOR, AFTER RUECKERT. 445 BESIDE THE SEA. I. THEY walked beside the Summer sea, And watched the slowly dying sun; The gentle waters kissed the shore, And, sadly whispering, seemed to say "He'll come no more! he'll come no more!" II. Alone beside the Autumn sea She watched the sombre death of day; And "O," she said, "remember me! A cold wind swept the watery gloom, And, darkly whispering on the shore, Sighed out the secret of his doom, "He'll come no more! he'll come no more III. In peace beside the Winter sea A white grave glimmers in the moon; They part no more! they part no more! ! WILLIAM WINTER. 448 WHEN SPARROWS BUILD, AND THE LEAVES BREAK FORTH. For I know there is dawn in the far, far north, And a scarlet sun doth rise; Like a scarlet fleece the snow-field spreads, And the icy founts run free; And the bergs begin to bow their heads, O, my lost love, and my own, own love, Is there never a chink in the world above Where they listen for words from below? And now thou wilt hear me no more no more Thou didst set thy foot on the ship, and sail Thou wert sad, for thy love did not avail, How could I tell I should love thee to-day, How could I know I should love thee away We shall walk no more through the sodden plain We shall stand no more by the seething main We shall part no more in the wind and rain, |