Verses of Many Days (Paperback)

This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1875. Excerpt: ... Christmas Morning, 1870 115 I would to you look upward, As in all things above My poor and small deservings--Too high for aught but love. I'll think that I am climbing; That, on some upper floor Of life and love and duty, You'll mine be, evermore. So, now the week is over, And I no more may roam, Be at the window, darling, To smile when I come home. CHRISTMAS MORAVATG, 1870. With the New Clock. The Christmas morn has brightened up O'er all the winter land, And God, our Light, is scattering gifts With free and loving hand: With love and hope our hearts are warm As in sweet days gone by, And bright, before our trusting hearts, His lands of promise lie. 1l6 Christmas Morning, 1870. Each warm pulsation, since I waked, Has only been for you; And all my manhood overflows, With impulse strong and true. More has He given to her and me Than we can grasp or know: Her hands and mine too narrow are For what He can bestow: And yet, on this dear day of all The liberal hearts and free, I would her blessing, in some part, Should seem to come from me. I cannot give her gold, or gems, The wonderful, or rare, Though nothing that my thought can seek Appears too rich or fair: Myself? She had me long ago, My very heart, my life, Nor can I find in all my soul More love to bring my wife, And yet some token I must bring To mark, in some slight way, The nevermore forgotten light Of our first Christmas day--Christmas Morning, 1870. 117 One small, poor token, only one--A dumb thing, yet that speaks And has a message of its own, For hours and days and weeks, Aye, and for months and years as well; A voice from silence brought; The still expression of its face; One ever-rising thought. Upon it we may look to see, How love and time march by, And how the past and future meet To see the p...