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Where'er a human heart doth wear

Joy's myrtle-wreath or sorrow's gyves,
Where'er a human spirit strives

After a life more true and fair,

There is the true man's birth-place grand,

His is a world-wide fatherland!

Where'er a single slave doth pine,

Where'er one man may help another,

Thank God for such a birthright, brother,

That spot of earth is thine and mine!

There is the true man's birth-place grand,

His is a world-wide fatherland!

A PARABLE.

WORN and footsore was the Prophet, When he gained the holy hill; "God has left the earth," he murmured, "Here his presence lingers still.

“God of all the olden prophets,

Wilt thou speak with men no more?

Have I not as truly served thee,

As thy chosen ones of yore?

"Hear me, guider of my fathers, Lo! a humble heart is mine; By thy mercy I beseech thee,

Grant thy servant but a sign!"

Bowing then his head, he listened

For an answer to his prayer;

No loud burst of thunder followed,

Not a murmur stirred the air :

But the tuft of moss before him

Opened, while he waited yet,

And, from out the rock's hard bosom,

Sprang a tender violet.

"God! I thank thee," said the Prophet; "Hard of heart and blind was I,

Looking to the holy mountain

For the gift of prophecy.

"Still thou speakest with thy children
Freely as in eld sublime;

Humbleness, and love, and patience
Still give empire over time.

"Had I trusted in my nature,

And had faith in lowly things,

1842.

Thou thyself wouldst then have sought me,
And set free my spirit's wings.

“But I looked for signs and wonders,
That o'er men should give me sway,
Thirsting to be more than mortal,
I was even less than clay.

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"In her hand she held a flower,
Like to this as like may be,

Which, beside my very threshold,

She had plucked and brought to me."

FORGETFULNESS.

THERE is a haven of sure rest

From the loud world's bewildering stress :

As a bird dreaming on her nest,

As dew hid in a rose's breast,

As Hesper in the glowing West;

So the heart sleeps

In thy calm deeps,

Serene Forgetfulness!

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