Further we see not. But here faith joins hands X. Is there then hope that thou and I shall be Nay, not so. Thought may burn eternally, We go, nor where; but God is over all!" XXI. Hush, heart of mine! Nor jest, nor blasphemy Nay, learn to love; love irresistibly! With obstinate reiteration shower Praises and prayers, thy spirit's dearest dower, They work no wrong who worship: they are pure And beacon through ten thousand broadening | Who seek God even in the sightless blue: spheres, Using our lives like wood that disappears Thus we may serve to build the cosmic soul XI. Yet Hope, cast back on Feeling, argues thus :- Growth furthermore meaus goodness: naught in us Shall then the universal Thought, pure mind, Each flower Death plucks into Life's coronal? XIX. One saith, "The world's a stage: I took my seat; And they have hope of victory who endure.- Is leading thee perchance to light secure, THE WILL. Blame not the times in which we live, Although both heaven and earth combined And self to take or leave is free, In spite of science, spite of fate, Will blame but thee, O man! Say not, "I would, but could not-He Cries, "Thine the deed, O man!" BEATI ILLI. Blessed is the man whose heart and hands are pure! JOHN A. SYMONDS.-EDMUND ARMSTRONG.-MRS. AUGUSTA WEBSTER. Oh, blessed is he who ne'er hath sold his soul, Through clouds and shadows of the darkest night Edmund Armstrong. Armstrong (1841-1865) was a native of Ireland, and a graduate of Trinity College, Dublin, where he was President of the Undergraduates' Philosophical Society. At one time an avowed holder of sceptical views in regard to immortality and the divine purpose of life, he lived to recant and disavow his former opinions, but died at the early age of twenty-four. A volume of his poems was published by Edward Moxon & Co., London, in 1866, They show that the poetical element in his nature was too strong for the sceptical. FROM DARKNESS TO LIGHT. Friend of my soul, for us no more The sea of dark negation booms Upon a strange and shadowy shoreAn ocean vexed with glooms; Whereon, in trembling barks forlorn, We tossed upon the waves of doubt, Our compass gone, our starlight out, Our shrouds and cordage torn. Our course is on another sea; Our spirits amid surge and wind, And flowing on the anxious mind Like gusts of healing balm. Mrs. Augusta Webster. Mrs. Webster, born in England about 1841, published in 1866 "A Woman Sold, and other Poems," also "Dramatic Studies" and "The Auspicious Day" (1872). There are several other works from her pen. One of her critics says: "She has a dramatic faculty unusual with women, a versatile range, much penetration of thought, and is remarkably free from the dangerous mannerisms of modern verse." TO BLOOM IS THEN TO WANE. Too soon so fair, fair lilies; To bloom is then to wane; The folded bud has still To-morrows at its will, Blown flowers can never blow again. Too soon so bright, bright noontide; The sun that now is high Will henceforth only sink Too soon so rich, ripe summer, For autumn tracks thee fast; Lo, death-marks on the leaf! Sweet summer, and my grief; For summer come is summer past. Too soon, too soon, lost summer; Some hours and thou art o'er. Ah! death is part of birth: Summer leaves not the earth, But last year's summer lives no more. THE GIFT. O happy glow! O sun-bathed tree! I came upon you something sad, Musing a mournful measure, Now all my heart in me is glad With a quick sense of pleasure. I came upon you with a heart Half sick of life's vexed story, And now it grows of you a part, Steeped in your golden glory. A smile into my heart has crept O happy glow! O sun-bathed tree! A love-gift has been given me, 913 Joaquin Miller. AMERICAN. Miller was born in 1841 in Indiana. When he was thirteen, his parents emigrated to Oregon overland, and settled in the Willamette Valley. After some rough adventures in the mining districts of California, he studied law, was admitted to practice, and in 1866 was elected county judge. Having published a small volume of poems, one of which bore the title of "Joaquin," he adopted that name instead of his original one of Cincinnatus Heine Miller. In 1870 he went to Europe, and in London found a publisher for his "Songs of the Sierras," which quickly gave him a reputation abroad and at home. He has since published "The Ship in the Desert, a Poem," and "Songs of Italy" (1878). And this was Rome, that shrieked for room To stretch her limbs! A hill of caves For half-wild beasts and hairy slaves; And gypsies tent within her tomb! Two lone palms on the Palatine, Two rows of cypress black and tall, With white roots set in Cæsar's Hall,A garden, convent, and sweet shrine. Tall cedars on a broken wall, That look away toward Lebanon, And seem to mourn for grandeur gone: A wolf, an owl,-and that is all. LONGINGS FOR HOME. Could I but return to my woods once more, Away from the world and half hid from the sun, It seems to me that I then could sing, I miss, how wholly I miss my wood, They loom like ruins of a grandeur gone, O God! once more in my life to hear The voice of a wood that is loud and alive, The great bright eyes of the antlered deer; PALATINE HILL. A wolf-like stream without a sound LOVE ME, LOVE. Love me, love, but breathe it low, Soft as summer weather; If you love me, tell me so, As we sit together, Sweet and still as roses blowLove me, love, but breathe it low. Tell me only with your eyes, Words are cheap as water, If you love me, looks and sighs Tell my mother's daughter More than all the world may knowLove me, love, but breathe it low. Words for others, storm and snow, Wind and changeful weatherLet the shallow waters flow Foaming on together; But love is still and deep, and oh! Love me, love, but breathe it low. Marie R. Lacoste. Miss Lacoste, born about the year 1842, was a resident of Savannah, Ga. (1863), at the time she wrote the charming little poem of "Somebody's Darling." Without her consent, it was first published, with her name attached, in the Southern Churchman. It has since been copied into American and English collections, school books, and newspapers, with her name; so that her wish to remain anonymous seems to be now impracticable. Her residence (1880) was Baltimore, and her occupation that of a teacher. In a letter to us (1880), she writes: "I am thoroughly French, and desire always to be identified with France; to be known and considered ever as a Frenchwoman. *** I cannot be considered an authoress Philip Bourke Marston. Marston, one of the young English poets of the latter half of the nineteenth century, is the son of John Westland Marston (born 1820), author of "The Patrician's Daughter," and other plays; whose dramatic and poetical works were published in a collected form in 1876. Philip is said to be blind, though not from birth. He has published "Song-tide, and other Poems" (1871), and "All in All: Poems and Sonnets" (1874). He has also contributed to Lippincott's and other American magazines. His poems, artistic in construction, tender and emotional in sentiment, have found an enlarging circle of admirers. FROM FAR. O Love, come back, across the weary way Thou didst go yesterday Dear Love, come back! "I am too far upon my way to turn: Be silent, hearts that yearn Upon my track." O Love! Love! Love! sweet Love! we are undone If thou indeed be gone Where lost things are. "Beyond the extremest sea's waste light and noise, As from Ghostland, thy voice Is borne afar." O Love, what was our sin that we should be Forsaken thus by thee? So hard a lot! "Upon your hearts my hands and lips were set-My lips of fire--and yet Ye knew me not." Nay, surely, Love! We knew thee well, sweet Love! "Ye did reject my thorns who wore my roses: Now darkness closes Upon your sight." O Love! stern Love! be not implacable: We loved thee, Love, so well! Come back to us! "To whom, and where, and by what weary way That I went yesterday, Shall I come thus ?" Oh weep, weep, weep! for Love, who tarried long, No more he lightens in our eyes like fire: He heeds not our desire, Or songs we sing. Sidney Lanier. AMERICAN. Born in Macon, Ga., in 1842, Lanier took up his residence in Baltimore, where he became lecturer on English Literature in the Johns Hopkins University. In 1876 he published a small collection of poems from the press of Lippincott & Co., Philadelphia; and a new volume was to appear in 1881. His prose works are "Florida" (1875), and "The Science of English Verse" (1880) -a volume of much original merit, in which he seems to have been unindebted to any predecessor. He is also the author of some approved books for boys. Lanier is a proficient in music, and a member of the Peabody Orchestra, an organization for the cultivation of classic music, maintained in connection with the Peabody Institute. A ROSE-MORAL. Soul, get thee to the heart Of yonder tuberose; hide thee there, There breathe the meditations of thine art Suffused with prayer. Of spirit grave yet light, How fervent fragrances uprise Pure-born from these most rich and yet most white Virginities! Mulched with unsavory death, Reach, Soul! yon rose's white estate: Give off thine art as she doth issue breath, And wait, and wait. EVENING SONG. Look off, dear Love, across the sallow sands, And mark yon meeting of the sun and sea; How long they kiss, in sight of all the lands! Ah, longer, longer we. Now in the sea's red vintage melts the sun, As Egypt's pearl dissolved in rosy wine, And Cleopatra Night drinks all. Tis done! Love, lay thy hand in mine. |