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But would we know that heart's full scope,

Which we are hourly wronging,
Our lives must climb from hope to hope,

And realize our longing.

Ah! let us hope that to our praise

Good God not only reckons
The moments when we tread his ways,

But when the spirit beckons;
That some slight good is also wrought

Beyond self-satisfaction,
When we are simply good in thought,
Howe'er we fail in action.


Each and All.


ITTLE thinks, in the field, yon red-cloaked clown,

Of thee from the hill-top looking down;
The heifer that lows in the upland farm,
Far-heard, lows not thine ear to charm;
The sexton, tolling his bell at noon,
Deems not that great Napoleon
Stops his horse, and lists with delight,
Whilst his files sweep round yon Alpine height
Nor knowest thou what argument
Thy life to thy neighbor's creed has lent.
All are needed by each one--
Nothing is fair or good alone.

I thought the sparrow's note from heaven,
Singing at dawn on the alder bough;
I brought him home, in his nest, at even;
He sings the song, but it pleases not now ;
For I did not bring home the river and sky;
He sang to my ear--they sang to my eye.


The delicate shells lay on the shore;
The bubbles of the latest wave
Fresh pearls to their enamel gave,
And the bellowing of the savage sea
Greeted their safe escape
I wiped away the weeds and foam-
I fetched my sea-born treasures home;
But the poor, unsightly, noisome things
Had left their beauty on the shore,
With the sun, and the sand, and the wild uproar.

The lover watched his graceful maid
As ʼmid the virgin train she strayed;
Nor knew her beauty's best attire
Was woven still by the snow-white choir.
At last she came to his hermitage,
Like the bird from the woodlands to the cage;
The gay enchantment was undone-
A gentle wife, but fairy none.

Then I said, “I covet truth;
Beauty is unripe childhood's cheat-
I leave it behind with the games of youth."-
As I spoke, beneath my feet
The ground-pine curled its pretty wreath,
Running over the club-moss burrs;
I inhaled the violet's breath;
Around me stood the oaks and firs;
Pine-cones and acorns lay on the ground;
Over me soared the eternal sky,
Full of light and of deity;
Again I saw, again I heard,
The rolling river, the morning bird;
Beauty through my senses stole
I yielded myself to the perfect whole.




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 ;
O bounding breeze, O rushing seas,
At last, at last, unite them there!



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.

He prays,

I cry,

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.

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