Poems Teachers Ask For, Book Two. Various

thus we sat in darkness,

      Each one busy with his prayers,

      "We are lost!" the captain shouted,

      As he staggered down the stairs.

      But his little daughter whispered,

      As she took his icy hand,

      "Isn't God upon the ocean,

      Just the same as on the land?"

      Then we kissed the little maiden,

      And we spoke in better cheer,

      And we anchored safe in harbor,

      When the morn was shining clear.

James T. Fields.

      Santa Filomena

      Whene'er a noble deed is wrought,

      Whene'er is spoken a noble thought,

      Our hearts, in glad surprise,

      To higher levels rise.

      The tidal wave of deeper souls

      Into our inmost being rolls

      And lifts us unawares

      Out of all meaner cares.

      Honor to those whose words or deeds

      Thus help us in our daily needs,

      And by their overflow,

      Raise us from what is low!

      Thus thought I, as by night I read

      Of the great army of the dead,

      The trenches cold and damp,

      The starved and frozen camp,—

      The wounded from the battle-plain,

      In dreary hospitals of pain,

      The cheerless corridors,

      The cold and stony floors.

      Lo! in that house of misery

      A lady with a lamp I see

      Pass through the glimmering gloom,

      And flit from room to room.

      And slow, as in a dream of bliss,

      The speechless sufferer turns to kiss

      Her shadow, as it falls

      Upon the darkening walls.

      As if a door in heaven should be

      Opened and then closed suddenly,

      The vision came and went,

      The light shone and was spent.

      On England's annals, through the long

      Hereafter of her speech and song,

      That light its rays shall cast

      From portals of the past.

      A lady with a lamp shall stand

      In the great history of the land

      A noble type of good,

      Heroic Womanhood.

      Nor even shall be wanting here

      The palm, the lily, and the spear,

      The symbols that of yore

      Saint Filomena bore.

Henry W. Longfellow.

      The Knight's Toast

      The feast is o'er! Now brimming wine

      In lordly cup is seen to shine

      Before each eager guest;

      And silence fills the crowded hall,

      As deep as when the herald's call

      Thrills in the loyal breast.

      Then up arose the noble host,

      And, smiling, cried: "A toast! a toast!

      To all our ladies fair!

      Here before all, I pledge the name

      Of Staunton's proud and beauteous dame,

      The Ladye Gundamere!"

      Then to his feet each gallant sprung,

      And joyous was the shout that rung,

      As Stanley gave the word;

      And every cup was raised on high,

      Nor ceased the loud and gladsome cry

      Till Stanley's voice was heard.

      "Enough, enough," he, smiling, said,

      And lowly bent his haughty head;

      "That all may have their due,

      Now each in turn must play his part,

      And pledge the lady of his heart,

      Like gallant knight and true!"

      Then one by one each guest sprang up,

      And drained in turn the brimming cup,

      And named the loved one's name;

      And each, as hand on high he raised,