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Friends, foes, joys,' fortunes, beauty, and disgust;
And whether I am angry or content,
Indebted or insulted, loved or hurt,
All he distills into sidereal wine,
And brims my little cup; heedless, alas!
Of all he sheds, how little it will hold,
How much rains over on the desert sands.

If a new Muse draw me with splendid ray,
And I uplift myself into its heaven,

The needs of the first sight absorb my blood,
And all the following hours of the day

Drag a ridiculous age.

To-day, when friends approach, and every hour
Brings book, or star-bright scroll of genius,
The little cup will hold not a bead more,
And all the costly liquor runs to waste;
Nor gives the jealous lord one diamond-drop,
So to be husbanded for future days.

Why need I volumes, if one word suffice?
Why need I galleries, when a pupil's draught,
After the master's sketch, fills and o'erfills
My apprehension? Why seek Italy,
Who cannot circumnavigate the sea

Of thoughts and things at home, but still adjourn
The nearest matters for a thousand days?

RALPH W. EMERSON.

Extract.

Y genial spirits fail;

And what can these avail

To lift the smothering weight from off my breast?

It were a vain endeavor,

Though I should gaze forever

On that green light that lingers in the west,

I may not hope from outward forms to win

The passion and the life whose fountains are within.

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SUN AND SHADOW.

O Lady! we receive but what we give,
And in our life alone does Nature liye;
Ours is her wedding garment, ours her shroud,
And would we aught behold of higher worth
Than that inanimate, cold world, allowed
To the poor loveless, ever anxious crowd,

Ah, from the soul itself must issue forth
A light, a glory, a fair, luminous cloud,

Enveloping the earth:

And from the soul itself must there be sent
A sweet and potent voice of its own birth,
Of all sweet sounds the life and element!

SAMUEL T. COLERIDGE.

Sun and Shadow.

AS

SI look from the isle, o'er its billows of green,
To the billows of foam-crested blue,
Yon bark, that afar in the distance is seen,
Half dreaming, my eyes will pursue.

Now dark in the shadow, she scatters the spray
As the chaff in the stroke of the flail;

Now white as the sea-gull she flies on her way,
The sun gleaming bright on her sail.

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Yet her pilot is thinking of dangers to shun,—
Of breakers that whiten and roar;

How little he cares if in shadow or sun

They see him who gaze from the shore!

He looks to the beacon that looms from the reef,
To the rock that is under his lee,

As he drifts on the blast, like a wind-wafted leaf,
O'er the gulfs of the desolate sea..

Thus drifting afar to the dim vaulted caves
Where life and its ventures are laid,

The dreamers who gaze while we battle the waves

May see us in sunshine or shade.

Yet true to our course, though our shadow grow dark,
We'll trim our broad sail as before,

And stand by the rudder that governs the bark,
Nor ask how we look from the shore!

OLIVER W. HOLMES.

Retribution.

Ὀψὲ θεῶν ἀτέουσι μύλοι, ἀλέουσι δὲ λεπτά.

("The mills of the gods grind late, but they grind fine.")

GREEK POET.

THE ABOVE PARAPHRASED.

THOU HOUGH the mills of God grind slowly, yet they grind exceeding small:

Though with patience he stands waiting, with exactness grinds he all.

HENRY W. LONGFELLOW.

Careless seems the Great Avenger; history's pages but record

One death-grapple in the darkness 'twixt old systems and the Word:

Truth forever on the scaffold, Wrong forever on the throne; But that scaffold sways the future, and behind the dim unknown

Standeth God within the shadow, keeping watch above His JAMES R. LOWELL.

own!

THE RIVER.

The Two Oceans.

Two

"WO seas amid the night,

In the moonshine roll and sparkle,
Now spread in the silver light,
Now sadden, and wail, and darkle.

The one has a billowy motion,

And from land to land it gleams; The other is sleep's wide ocean,

And its glimmering waves are dreams.

The one,

with murmur and roar,

Bears fleets round coast and islet; The other, without a shore,

Ne'er knew the track of a pilot.

ANONYMOUS.

The River.

R

IVER! River! little River!
Bright you sparkle on your way
O'er the yellow pebbles dancing,
Through the flowers and foliage glancing,

Like a Child at play.

River! River! swelling River!

On you rush o'er rough and smooth-
Louder, faster, brawling, leaping,
Over rocks, by rose-banks sweeping,
Like impetuous Youth.

River! River! brimming River!
Broad, and deep, and still as Time,
Seeming still-yet still in motion,
Tending onward to the ocean,
Just like Mortal Prime.

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River! River! rapid River!
Swifter now you slip away;
Swift and silent as an arrow,
Through a channel dark and narrow,
Like life's Closing Day,

River! River! headlong River!
Down you dash into the sea;
Sea, that line hath never sounded,
Sea, that voyage hath never rounded,
Like Eternity!

ANONYMOUS.

Sun and Shade.

THE

HERE are no shadows where there is no sun :
There is no beauty where there is no shade:
And all things in two lines of glory run,
Darkness and light, ebon and gold, inlaid.

FREDERICK W. FABER.

Night and Death.

Μ

YSTERIOUS Night! when our first parent knew Thee from report divine, and heard thy name, Did he not tremble for this lovely frame, This glorious canopy of light and blue? Yet 'neath the curtain of translucent dew,

Bathed in the rays of the great setting flame, Hesperus, with the host of heaven, came; And lo! creation widened in man's view.

Who could have thought such darkness lay concealed
Within thy beams, O Sun? or who could find,
While fly, and leaf, and insect stood revealed,

That to such countless orbs thou mad'st us blind?
Why do we then shun death with anxious strife?—
If light can thus deceive, wherefore not life?

BLANCO WHITE.

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