thelastminstrel

    The Lay of the Last Minstrel [excerpt] by Walter Scott

Breathes there the man with soul so dead
Who never to himself hath said,
This is my own, my native land!
Whose heart hath ne’er within him burned,
As home his footsteps he hath turned
From wandering on a foreign strand!
If such there breathe, go, mark him well;
For him no minstrel raptures swell;
High though his titles, proud his name,
Boundless his wealth as wish can claim
Despite those titles, power, and pelf,
The wretch, concentred all in self, 
Living, shall forfeit fair renown,
And, doubly dying, shall go down 
To the vile dust from whence he sprung,
Unwept, unhonored , and unsung.

       You Never Can Tell by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

You never can tell when you send a word
   Like an arrow shot from a bow
By an archer blind, be it cruel or kind
    Just where it may chance to go.
It may pierce the breast of your dearest friend,
    Tipped with its poison or balm,
To a stranger’s heart in life’s great mart
     It may carry its pain or its calm

You never can tell when you do an act
     Just what the result will be
But with every deed you are sowing a seed,
     Though the harvest you may not see
Each kindly act is an acorn dropped
     In God’s productive soil;
You may not know, but the tree shall grow
     With shelter for those who toil.

You never can tell what your thoughts will do
     In bringing you hate or love,
For thoughts are things, and their airy wings
     Are swifter than carrier doves.
They follow the law of the universe-
      Each thing must create its kind,
And they speed o’er the track to bring you back
      Whatever went out from your mind.

   Fate by Susan Marr Spalding

TWO SHALL BE BORN,the whole wide world apart,
And speak in different tongues and have no thought
Each of the other’s being, and no heed;
And these, o’er unknown seas, to unknown lands
Shall cross, escaping wreck, defying death;
And all unconsciously shape every act
And bend each wandering step to this one end–
That one day out of darkness they shall meet
And read life’s meaning in each other’s eyes.

And two shall walk some narrow way of life
So nearly side by side that, should one turn
Ever so little space to left or right,
They needs must stand acknowledged, face to face,
And yet, with wistful eyes that never meet,
And groping hands that never clasp, and lips
Calling in vain to ears that never hear,
They seek each other all their weary days
And die unsatisfied- and this is Fate!

 MEMORY by Thomas Bailey Aldrich

My mind lets go a thousand things,
Like dates of wars and deaths of kings,
And yet recalls the very hour–
‘Twas noon by yonder village tower,
And on the last blue moon in May–
The wind came briskly up this way,
Crisping the brook beside the road;
Then , pausing here, set down its load
Of pine scents, and shook listlessly
Two petals from that wild-rose tree.

Memory by Helen Hoyt

I can remember our sorrow, I can remember our laughter;

I know that surely we kissed and cried and ate together;

I remember our places and games, and plans we had-

The little house and how all came to nought-

Remember well;

But I cannot remember our love,

I cannot remember our love.