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EACH AND ALL.
But would we know that heart's full scope,
Which we are hourly wronging,
And realize our longing.
Ah! let us hope that to our praise
Good God not only reckons
But when the spirit beckons;
JAMES R. LOWELL.
Each and All.
ITTLE thinks, in the field, yon red-cloaked clown,
Of thee from the hill-top looking down;
I thought the sparrow's note from heaven,
The delicate shells lay on the shore;
The lover watched his graceful maid
Then I said, “I covet truth;
RALPH W. EMERSON.
QUA CURSUM VENTUS.
Qua Cursum Ventus. AS
With canvas drooping, side by side, Two towers of sail, at dawn of day
Are scarce long leagues apart descried;
When fell the night unsprung the breeze,
And all the darkling hours they plied; Nor dreamt but each the self-same seas
By each was cleaving, side by side:
E'en so—but why the tale reveal
Of those whom, year by year unchanged, Brief absence joined anew, to feel,
Astounded, soul from soul estranged?
At dead of night their sails were filled,
And onward each rejoicing steered; Ah! neither blame, for neither willed
Or wist what first with dawn appeared.
To veer, how vain ! On, onward strain,
Brave barks! In light, in darkness too ! Through winds and tides one compass guides
To that and your own selves be true.
But O, blithe breeze ! and O, great seas !
Though ne'er--that earliest parting past, – On your wide plain they join again,
Together lead them home at last.
One port, methought, alike they sought
One purpose hold where'er they fare ;
ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH.
A Nempty sky, a world of heather,
Purple of foxglove, yellow of broom: We two among them wading together,
Shaking out honey, treading perfume.
Crowds of bees are giddy with clover,
Crowds of grasshoppers skip at our feet: Crowds of larks at their matins hang over,
Thanking the Lord for a life so sweet.
Flusheth the rise with her purple favor,
Gloweth the cleft with her golden ring, 'Twixt the two brown butterflies waver,
Lightly settle, and sleepily swing.
We two walk till the purple dieth,
And short dry grass under foot is brown, But one little streak at a distance lieth
Green, like a ribbon, to prank the down.
Over the grass we stepped unto it,
And God, He knoweth how blithe we were ! Never a voice to bid us eschew it;
Hey the green ribbon that showed so fair !
Hey the green ribbon ! we kneeled beside it,
We parted the grasses dewy and sheen;. Drop over drop there filtered and slided
A tiny bright beck that trickled between.
Tinkle, tinkle, sweetly it sung to us,
Light was our talk as of faëry belisFaery wedding-bells faintly rung to us,
Down in their fortunate parallels.
Hand in hand, while the sun peered over,
We lapped the grass on that youngling spring, Swept back its rushes, smoothed its clover,
And said, “Let us follow it westering.”
A dappled sky, a world of meadows;
Circling above us the black rooks fly, Forward, backward : lo, their dark shadow's
Flit on the blossoming tapestry
Flit on the beck-for her long grass parteth,
As hair from a maid's bright eyes blown back; And lo, the sun like a lover darteth
His flattering srnile on her wayward track.
Sing on! we sing in the glorious weather,
Till one steps over the tiny strand, So narrow, in sooth, that still together
On either brink we go hand in hand.
The beck grows wider, the hands must sever.
On either margin, our songs all done, We move apart, while she singeth ever,
Taking the course of the stooping sun.
“Come over”-I may not follow ;
" Return”-but he cannot come: We speak, we laugh, but with voices hollow;
Our hands are hanging, our hearts are numb.
A breathing sigh-a sigh for answer;
A little talking of outward things: The careless beck is a merry dancer,
Keeping sweet time to the air she sings.