Then turned upon earth and frantically came,
Shaking the hollow heaven.

And far

And near red lightning in ribbon and skein
Did write upon heaven Jehovah's name.

Then lightnings went weaving like shuttlecocks,
Weaving black raiment of clouds for death;
The mute doves flew to Saint Mark in flocks,
And men stood leaning with gathered breath.
Black gondolas flew as never before,

And drew like crocodiles up on the shore;
And vessels at sea stood farther at sea,
And seamen hauled with a bended knee.

Then canvas came down to left and to right;
And ships stood stripped as if stripped for fight!

P in a wild where no one comes to look
There lives and sings a little lonely brook;

Liveth and singeth in the dreary pines,

Yet creepeth on to where the daylight shines.

Pure from their heaven, in mountain chalice caught,
It drinks the rain, as drinks the soul her thought ;
And down dim hollows where it winds along,
Pours its life-burden of unlistened song.

I catch the murmur of its undertone,
That sigheth ceaselessly, Alone! alone!
And hear afar the Rivers gloriously
Shout on their paths toward the shining sea!

The voiceful Rivers, chanting to the sun,
And weaving names of honor, every one!
Outreaching wide, and joining hand with hand
To pour great gifts along the asking land.

Ah! lonely brook! creep onward through the pines;
Press through the gloom to where the daylight shines!
Sing on among the stones, and secretly

Feel how the floods are all akin to thee!

Drink the sweet rain the gentle heaven sendeth;
Hold thine own path, however-ward it tendeth;
For somewhere, underneath the eternal sky,
Thou, too, shalt find the Rivers, by-and-by!

- Adeline D. T. Whitney.

R

THE RIVER.

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, rolling, leaping,
Over rocks and shallows sweeping,
Like impetuous youth.

River, river, brimming river!
Broad and deep, and still as time;
Seeming still, although in motion,
Tending onward to the ocean,
Just like mortal prime.

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 sail hath never rounded,
Like Eternity.

Selected.

THE RIVER'S END.

UT the majestic river floated on,

BUT

Out of the mist and hum of that low land,

Into the frosty starlight, and there moved,

Rejoicing, through the hush'd Chorasmian waste, Brimming, and bright, and large; then sands begin To hem his watery march, and dam his streams,

And split his currents; that for many a league
The shorn and parcel'd Oxus strains along
Through beds of sand and matted rushy isles-
Oxus, forgetting the bright speed he had
In his high mountain-cradle in Pamere,
A foil'd circuitous wanderer till at last.

The long'd-for dash of waves is heard, and wide
His luminous home of waters opens, bright

And tranquil, from whose floor the new-bathed stars Emerge, and shine upon the Aral sea.

"Sohrab and Rustum."

-Matthew Arnold.

BREAK, BREAK, BREAK.

REAK, break, break,

BRE

On thy cold gray stones, O Sea!

And I would that my tongue could utter
The thoughts that arise in me.

O well for the fisherman's boy,

That he shouts with his sister at play!
O well for the sailor lad,

That he sings in his boat on the bay!

And the stately ships go on

To their haven under the hill;

But O for the touch of a vanished hand,
And the sound of a voice that is still!

Break, break, break,

At the foot of thy crags, O Sea!

But the tender grace of a day that is dead

Will never come back to me.

- Alfred Tennyson.

H°

SLOW AND SURE.

OW does the tide come? Not all in one rising, Daunting the land and the weather surprising; Heaving, receding, now farther, now nigher, Now it is lower and now it is higher,

It is full tide and the sea rules the shore.

How does the soul grow? Not all in a minute;
Now it may lose ground, and now it may win it;
Now it resolves, and again the will faileth;
Now it rejoiceth, and now it bewaileth.
Fed by discouragements, taught by disaster,
So goes it forward, now slower, now faster,
Till, all the pain past, and failures made whole,
It is full grown, and the Lord rules the soul.
-Susan Coolidge..

THE OCEAN.

'HE ocean at the bidding of the moon

THE

Forever changes with his restless tide; Flung shoreward now, to be regathered soon With kingly pauses of reluctant pride, And semblance of return. Anon from home He issues forth anew, high ridged and free, The gentlest murmur of his seething foam Like armies whispering where great echoes be. O, leave me here upon this beach to rove, Mute listener to that sound so grand and lone! A glorious sound, deep drawn, and strongly thrown, And reaching those on mountain heights above, To British ears (as who shall scorn to own?)

A tutelar fond voice, a savior tone of love.