: The American Missionary — Volume 32 No. 08 August 1878 by Various - Congregational churches Missions Periodicals; Home missions Periodicals The American Missionary

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POEMS

DEDICATION THE COAST OF BOHEMIA THE VOICE OF THE SEA LONG ROLL AT NAPOLEON'S TOMB THE PRINCESS' PROGRESS YOUTH AMERICA: GREETING DAWN THE POET ON AGRADINA THE SHEPHERD OF THE SEAS SLEEP TO A LADY AT A SPRING UNFORGOTTEN THE OLD LION THE DRAGON OF THE SEAS THE BENT MONK THE MESSAGE THE NEEDLE'S EYE THE CLOSED DOOR CONVENTION THE MAGDALEN THE REQUIREMENT THE LISTENER CONTRADICTION THE QUESTION OUR DEAD MY MOTHER HER INFLUENCE MATTHEW ARNOLD THE STRANGER LOVE AN OLD REFRAIN TO CLAUDIA THE APPLE-TREES AT EVEN MY TRUE-LOVE'S WEALTH A VALENTINE A PORTRAIT F?LICE LOVE SONG THE HARBOUR LIGHT FADED SPRAY OF MIGNONETTE LOST ROSES DE NAME OF OLE VIRGINIA THE DANCER THE APRIL-FACE COME BACK TO US, DAVIE THE WITCH HUMANITY ASPIRATION REALITY LITTLE DOLLY DIMPLE A VALENTINE

DIALECT POEMS

UNCLE GABE'S WHITE FOLKS LITTLE JACK ASHCAKE ZEKYL'S INFIDELITY MARSE PHIL ONE MOURNER

THE COAST OF BOHEMIA

DEDICATION

TO F. L. P.

As one who wanders in a lonely land, Through all the blackness of a stormy night, Now stumbling here, now falling there outright, And doubts if it be worse to stir or stand, Not knowing what abysses yawn at hand, What torrents roar beyond some beetling height; Yet scales the top to find the dawn in sight, And Earth kissed into radiance with its wand: So, wandering hopeless in the darkness, I, Scarce recking whither led my painful way, Or whether I should faint or strive to prove If 'yond the mountain-top some path might lie, Climbed boldly up the steep, and lo! the Day Broke into pearl and splendor in thy love.

THE COAST OF BOHEMIA

There is a land not charted on all charts; Though many mariners have touched its coast, Who far adventuring in those distant parts, Meet ship-wreck there and are forever lost; Or if they e'er return, are soon once more Borne far away by hunger for that magic shore.

Its mystic mountains on the horizon piled, Some mariners have glimpsed when driven far Out of life's measured course by tempests wild, Or lured therefrom by the erratic star They chose as pilot, till their errant guide Drew them resistlessly within its witching tide.

For oft, they tell, who know its sapphire strand The golden haze enfolding it hangs low, And those who careless steer may miss the land, Embosomed in the sunset's purple glow, Its lights mistaken for the evening stars, Its music for the surf-beat on its golden bars.

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