Twilight Thoughts: Stories for Children and Child-Lovers.
Mary S. Claude.
Preface by Matthew Arnold.
The Athenaeum Press.
Ginn and Company Proprietors.
Boston, MA.
1887.
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Have you ever looked up to the Moon as she
floats in the cloudless sky, and
thought that
among all the creatures of this busy world she is the
loneliest -- the only lonely one, in truth?
Tiny insects hum out their joyous lives in myriads
-- flowers bloom in loving
groups -- fruit glows in
clusters on the interwoven boughs -- trees stand
in
goodly groups, and shield each other from the storm
-- every bird of
the wood, every beast of the field, has
his home and his mate -- fish swim in
glittering shoals,
and the great whale is not solitary -- the waves of
the
ocean play together on the sandy beach, or unite
their strength to scale the
iron rocks -- the very
stars form little bands and companies upon the face
of heaven, and the Twin Stars are known to all ;
nor is the Sun lonely, for the
Earth is his bride ;
and when he smiles upon her, she answers him with
smiles and with songs ; and when he turns away his
face, she veils herself, and
sleeps with his children in
her arms until her lord return.
But the gentle Moon has no mate ; she moves
alone through the heavens,
unsupported, unattended,
unbeloved. Sometimes a Star comes to her side,
and
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journeys with her for a little space ; but very soon it
leaves her again, for they are not kindred.
But as there is nought in this wide world that
exists without loving, the beautiful and tender Moon
has given her love to every solitary and every sorrow-
ful heart that seeks her with a loving eye in her
homeless wandering through heaven.
The Captive shuts his pained eyes from the glare
of the sunshine that mocks him through his prison-
bars, but he gladly greets the Moon's soft rays when
they fall upon his brow, cool and pure as the waters
of a living spring ; he listens to her gladly when she
speaks to him of freedom to be waited for, not won,
and ere she leaves him there is a smile upon his worn
cheek that is full of patience and of peace.
It is the Moon that nightly visits the Poet in his
little garret-chamber, where she tells him wondrous
stories of earth and air and sea -- there shows him
moving visions of life and love by her own most pure
and holy light. She comforts him for the neglect
and scorn of the many, who understand him not ;
and the poet loves her, and sings the praises of truth
and beauty with a stronger heart and voice, before
all men, in the broad light of day.
It is the Moon that talks with the Lover of his
absent love, and bears him her faithful greeting
through the silent night. They talk together until
the morning, but what they say is for no ears but
their own.
It is the Moon that lingers with the soldier at the
grave of his fallen comrade. There is a glare of
light and a sound of rude revelry from the distant
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camp, but at the grave it is very still. The Moon
looks down upon the low hillock, and her beams give
a hallowing lustre to the dewdrops on the grass, and
to the tears upon the solitary Soldier's cheek. He
is not ashamed to weep in the sight of the gentle
Moon while he thinks of his dead friend, and remem-
bers the strength of his arm in battle and the tender-
ness of his heart in love -- while he mourns sorely
that he is gone. The Moon sings to him in solemn
hymns of the world where death can never come, and
where he shall one day meet his friend ; and the
listening soldier's heart is full of faith, and his lips
move, and from the depths of his being he breathes
a low Amen.
The mother faints not watching her dying child,
the husband wearies not by the sick-bed of his wife,
but some there are whose task of watching through
the long hours of night is not sweetened by love, and
to them the visits of the bright Moon are most wel-
come ; she fills the dull sick-room with a pure, refresh-
ing light, and bids the drooping watcher persevere,
for duty faithfully performed lacks never its reward ;
and the tired hands are lifted up with renewed vigor,
the heavy eyes brighten, and the sick sufferer is
tended faithfully -- even tenderly -- to the end.
Look upon the face of the broken-hearted, and
thou wilt see that with her the gentle Moon has
waked for many a night : look at her pale and placid
countenance, does she not wane in uncomplaining
silence, even as the Moon wanes to a light shadow in
the dawning?
If a smile ever tinges that sunken cheek, it is in
answer to the low whispering of her nightly visit-