But to you, as time takes him,

This new thing it gives,

Even love, the beloved Republic, that feeds upon freedom and lives.

For truth only is living,

Truth only is whole,

And the love of his giving

Man's polestar and pole;

Man, pulse of my centre, and fruit of my body,

and seed of my soul.

One birth of my bosom;

One beam of mine eye;

One topmost blossom

That scales the sky;

Man, equal and one with me, man that is made of me, man that is I.

THEODORE WATTS-DUNTON

NATURA BENIGNA

The Promise of the Sunrise

What power is this? what witchery wins my feet To peaks so sheer they scorn the cloaking snow, All silent as the emerald gulfs below,

Down whose ice-walls the wings of twilight beat? What thrill of earth and heaven-most wild, most sweet

What answering pulse that all the senses know,
Comes leaping from the ruddy eastern glow
Where, far away, the skies and mountains meet?
Mother, 'tis I reborn: I know thee well:
That throb I know and all it prophesies,
O Mother and Queen, beneath the olden spell
Of silence, gazing from thy hills and skies!
Dumb Mother, struggling with the years to tell
The secret at thy heart through helpless eyes.

JOAQUIN MILLER

COLUMBUS

Behind him lay the great Azores,
Behind the Gates of Hercules,
Before him not the ghost of shores,
Before him only shoreless seas,

The good mate said: "Now must we pray;
For lo, the very stars are gone.

Brave Admiral, speak, what shall I say?"

'Why, say, Sail on, sail on, and on."

The men grew mutinous by day,

The men grew ghastly pale and weak;
The sad mate thought of home, a spray
Of salt wave washed his swarthy cheek.
"What shall I say, brave Admiral, say
If we sight naught but seas at dawn?'

"Why you shall say, at break of day, Sail on, sail on, sail on, and on."

They sailed, they sailed, as winds might blow, Until, at last, the blanched mate said, "Why now not even God would know

Should I and all my men fall dead. The very winds forget their way,

For God from these dread seas has gone. Now speak, brave Admiral, speak and say—” He said: "Sail on, sail on, and on."

They sailed, they sailed.

Then spoke the mate:

"This mad sea shows its teeth to-night,

He curls his lip, he lies in wait,

With lifted teeth, as if to bite.

Brave Admiral, say but one good word,
What shall we do when hope is gone?"
The words leaped as a flaming sword,-
"Sail on, sail on, sail on, and on."

EDWARD ROWLAND SILL

A PRAYER

O God, our Father, if we had but truth!
Lost truth-which Thou perchance

Didst let man lose, lest all his wayward youth
He waste in song and dance;

That he might gain, in searching, mightier powers For manlier use in those foreshadowed hours.

If blindly groping, he shall oft mistake,
And follow twinkling motes

Thinking them stars, and the one voice forsake
Of Wisdom for the notes

Which mocking Beauty utters here and there, Thou surely wilt forgive him, and forbear!

O love us, for we love Thee, Maker-God!
And would creep near Thy hand,

And call Thee, "Father, Father," from the sod
Where by our graves we stand,

And pray to touch, fearless of scorn or blame, Thy garment's hem, which Truth and Good we

name.

"QUEM METUI MORITURA?"

What need have I to fear-so soon to die?
Let me work on, not watch and wait in dread:
What will it matter, when that I am dead,
That they bore hate or love who near me lie?
'Tis but a lifetime, and the end is nigh

At best or worst. Let me lift up my head And firmly, as with inner courage, tread Mine own appointed way, on mandates high.

Pain could but bring, from all its evil store,
The close of pain: hate's venom could but kill;
Repulse, defeat, desertion, could no more.

Let me have lived my life, not cowered until The unhindered and unhastened hour was here. So soon-what is there in the world to fear?

MINOT J. SAVAGE
MY BIRTH

I had my birth where stars were born,
In the dim æons of the past:
My cradle cosmic forces rocked,
And to my first was linked my last.

Through boundless space the shuttle flew,
To weave the warp and woof of fate:
In my begetting were conjoined
The infinitely small and great.

The outmost star on being's rim,
The tiniest sand-grain of the earth,
The farthest thrill and nearest stir
Were not indifferent to my birth.

And when at last the earth swung free,
A little planet by the moon,

For me the continent arose,

For me the ocean roared its tune;