LISTENING FOR GOD. I HEAR it often in the dark, Oh, may it be that far within Those voices of surprise? That firmament serene Is just the heaven where God himself, The Father, dwells unseen? Bay Billy with his trappings on, Right royally he took the place That was of old his wont, And with a neigh that seemed to say, Above the battle's brunt, "How can the Twenty-Second charge If I am not in front?" Like statues rooted there we stood, But we saw Bay Billy's eye of fire, No bugle-call could rouse us all And when upon the conquered height And then the dusk and dew of night As though o'er man's dread work of death The angels wept again, And drew night's curtain gently round A thousand beds of pain. All night the surgeons' torches went, At last the morning broke. The lark As if to e'en the sleepers there Could ope their heavy eyes. And then once more with banners gay, Stretched out the long brigade. Trimly upon the furrowed field The troops stood on parade, And bravely mid the ranks were closed The gaps the fight had made. Not half the Twenty-Second's men Ah! who forgets that dreary hour The solemn sergeant tries,- And as in faltering tone and slow Bay Billy's name he read. Yes! there the old bay hero stood, Or the bugle's quick alarms, Not all the shoulder-straps on earth then The whole line answered, "Here!" RICHARD WATSON GILDER. THERE IS NOTHING NEW UNDER | By iron, and to heaven laid bare: THE SUN. THERE is nothing new under the sun; There is no new hope or despair; The agony just begun Is as old as the earth and the air. My secret soul of bliss Is one with the singing star's, And the ancient mountains miss No hurt that my being mars. I know as I know my life, I know as I know my pain, He shook the seed that he carried The sky and the earth, and his wand Thus did that sower sow; His seed was human blood, And tears of women and men. And I, who near him stood, Said: When the crop comes, then There will be sobbing and sighing, Weeping and wailing and crying, Flame and ashes and woe. It was an autumn day Hears the same prayer over and When next I went that way. over. I know it because at the portal My praise thou hast made my blame; But scarce my prayer was said Ere from that place I turned; I trembled, I hung my head, My cheek, shame-smitten, burned; For there where I bowed down I thought of thy cross and crown,- THE SOWER. A SOWER went forth to sow, He crushed the flowers beneath his feet, [sweet, Nor smelt the perfume warm and That prayed for pity everywhere. He came to a field that was harried And what, think you, did I see? What was it that I heard? The song of a sweet-voiced bird? Of all those voices not any |