"
Who sent him to the pit? Who dragged him down?
Who bound him hand and foot? Who smiled and smiled
While yet the hellish work went on? Who grasped
His gold--his health--his life--his hope--his all?
Who saw his Mary fade and die? Who saw
His beggared children wandering in the streets?
Speak--Coward--if thou hast a tongue,
Tell why with hellish art you slew A MAN.
"Where is my brother?"
"Am I my brother's keeper?"
Ah, man! A deeper mark is on your brow
Than that of Cain. Accursed was the name
Of him who slew a righteous man, whose soul
Was ripe for Heaven; thrice accursed he
Whose art malignant sinks a soul to hell.
_E. Evans Edwards._
* * * * *
OCEAN.
_In Sunshine._
My window overlooks thee,--and thy sheen of silver glory,
In musical monotony advances and recedes;
Till I dimly see the "shining ones" of ancient song and story,
With aureoles of ocean-haze invite to distant meads,
Where summer song and sunshine on placid waters play;--
Drifting dreamily, insensibly, on fragrance-laden breeze--
Floating onward on the wavelets, without hurry or delay,
I reach some blissful haven in the bright Hesperides.
Pages:
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160