English

The gloom of night had overspread the land,
Swaying its dread sceptre o'er every man;
For superstition like a monarch reigned,
And Adam's sons were fettered by its chain.

When the fulfilment of the promise came,
A Saviour! born to-day in Bethlehem;
Gabriel, the news, the joyful news revealed
By night, to some poor shepherds in the field.

Go now to Bethlehem, behold the Babe—
Though Lord of all, He's in a manger laid!
Among the horned cattle there you'll find
The Prince of Peace, the Saviour of mankind.

I

The glittering leaves of the rhododendrons
Balance and vibrate in the cool air;
While in the sky above them
White clouds chase each other.

Like scampering rabbits,
Flashes of sunlight sweep the lawn;
They fling in passing
Patterns of shadow,
Golden and green.

With long cascades of laughter,
The mating birds dart and swoop to the turf:
'Mid their mad trillings
Glints the gay sun behind the trees.

Down there are deep blue lakes:
Orange blossom droops in the water.

Glenn Miller's music is a trunk
in which I keep my childhood
among the infinite clutter, house after house,
of arches and straight lines
(Chatanooga Choo Choo)
kitchen cabinets with fruit decals,
mahogany furniture with woven straw,
doll houses without balconies,
not being permitted to put on make-up
among women with red lipstick
and permanent waves,
(Moonlight Serenade)
shoes with a hole at the toe,
linen dresses with flowered petticoats,
my handbag
loaded with lollypops to have while I shop,

Gleaming in silver are the hills,
Blazing in silver is the sea,
And a silvery radiance spills
Where the moon drives royally.
Clad in silver tissue I
March magnificently by.

The glad harvest greets us; brave toiler for bread,
Good cheer! the prospect is brighter ahead;
Like magic, the plentiful sunshine and rain
Have ripened our millions of acres of grain;
And the poorest, the wolf may keep from his door —
There'll be bread and to spare another year more.
So sing merrily, merrily,
As we gather it in;
We will store it away gladly
In garner and bin.

We hailed with delight, yet tempered with fear,
The corn as it grew from the blade to the ear;

Glad and blithe mote ye be,
All that ever I here nowe se,
Alleluia!
Kinge of kingis, Lord of alle,
Borne he is in oxe stalle,
Res miranda.

The angel of consel now borne he is,
Of a maide full clene, iwis,
Sol de stella.
The sunne that ever shineth bright,
The sterre that ever yeveth his light,
Semper clara.

Right as the sterre bringth forth his beme,
So the maide here barn teme.
Pari forma.
Nother the sterre for his beme,
Nother the maide for here barne-teme
Fit corrupta.

Given, not lent,
And not withdrawn—once sent,
This Infant of mankind, this One,
Is still the little welcome Son.

New every year,
New born and newly dear,
He comes with tidings and a song,
The ages long, the ages long;

Even as the cold
Keen winter grows not old,
As childhood is so fresh, foreseen,
And spring in the familiar green—

Sudden as sweet
Come the expected feet.
All joy is young, and new all art,
And He, too, Whom we have by heart.

Give to the winds thy fears!
Hope, and be undismayed!
God hears thy sighs and counts thy tears,
God shall lift up thy head.

Through waves and clouds and storms
He gently clears thy way;
Wait thou his time; so shall this night
Soon end in joyous day.

He everywhere hath rule,
And all things serve his might;
His every act pure blessing is,
His path, unsullied light.

Thou comprehend'st him not;
Yet earth and heaven tell,
God sits as sovereign on the throne;

1. Distinguishing Ru from Chu

(poem assembled from the review questions in " Barnes Shorthand Lessons, " St. Louis, 1885)

Give the sounds of the curved mated phonographs.
Give the sounds of the straight mated Phonographs.
Name the six vertical Phonographs.

What caution should be observed in writing Lu, Ur, Wu and Yu?
What are the two ways of writing Hu?
How may Ru be distinguished from Chu when alone?

How is Iss joined to a curve?
How is Iss joined to a straight stroke?

Give place, ye lovers, here before
That spent your boasts and brags in vain;
My lady's beauty passeth more
The best of yours, I dare well sayen,
Than doth the sun the candle light,
Or brightest day the darkest night.

And thereto hath a troth as just
As had Penelope the fair;
For what she saith, ye may it trust,
As it by writing sealed were:
And virtues hath she many moe
Than I with pen have skill to show.

I could rehearse, if that I would,
The whole effect of Nature's plaint