No heavenly chant, no earthly care, Have stirred a smile or frown.

I wake; thy kiss is on my lips;
Thou art my day, my sun!
But where, O spirit, where wast thou
While the sands of night have run?

THEOCRITUS

AY! Unto thee belong The pipe and song, Theocritus,

Loved by the satyr and the faun!
To thee the olive and the vine,
To thee the Mediterranean pine,
And the soft lapping sea!
Thine, Bacchus,

Thine, the blood-red revels,
Thine, the bearded goat!
Soft valleys unto thee,
And Aphrodite's shrine,

And maidens veiled in falling robes of lawn!
But unto us, to us,

The stalwart glories of the North;
Ours is the sounding main,

And ours the voices uttering forth

By midnight round these cliffs a mighty strain;

A tale of viewless islands in the deep
Washed by the waves' white fire;

Of mariners rocked asleep,

In the great cradle, far from Grecian ire
Of Neptune and his train;

To us, to us,

The dark-leaved shadow and the shining

birch,

All my room was dark and damp:
"Sorrow," said I, " trim the lamp,
Light the fire, and cheer thy face,
Set the guest-chair in its place."
And again I heard the knock;
In the dark I found the lock:
"Enter, I have turned the key;
Enter, Stranger,

Who art come to sup with me."

Opening wide the door he came,
But I could not speak his name;
In the guest-chair took his place,
But I could not see his face.
When my cheerful fire was beaming,

When my little lamp was gleaming, And the feast was spread for three, Lo, my MASTER

Was the Guest that supped with me!

ALL'S WELL

THE day is ended. Ere I sink to sleep, My weary spirit seeks repose in Thine. Father! forgive my trespasses, and keep This little life of mine.

(THE SUGGESTED DEVICE OF A NEW WESTERN STATE)

FAR-OFF a young State rises, full of might: I paint its brave escutcheon. Near at hand See the log-cabin in the rough clearing stand;

A woman by its door, with steadfast sight, Trustful, looks Westward, where, uplifted bright,

Some city's Apparition, weird and grand,
In dazzling quiet fronts the lonely land,
With vast and marvellous structures
wrought of light,

Motionless on the burning cloud afar:
The haunting vision of a time to be,
After the heroic age is ended here,
Built on the boundless, still horizon's bar
By the low sun, his gorgeous prophecy
Lighting the doorway of the pioneer!

THE CHILD IN THE STREET

FOR A VOLUME OF DOUBLE AUTHORSHIP
EVEN as tender parents lovingly

Send a dear child in some true servant's caro
Forth in the street, for larger light and air,
Feeling the sun her guardian will be,
And dreaming with a blushful pride that
she

Will earn sweet smiles and glances everywhere,

From loving faces; and that passers fair Will bend, and bless, and kiss her, when they see,

And ask her name, and if her home is near, And think, "O gentle child, how blessed

are they

Whose twofold love bears up a single flower!"

IRELAND

A SEASIDE PORTRAIT

A GREAT, Still Shape, alone,

She sits (her harp has fallen) on the sand, And sees her children, one by one, depart:Her cloak (that hides what sins beside her own!)

Wrapped fold on fold about her. Lo, She comforts her fierce heart, As wailing some, and some gay-singing go, With the far vision of that Greater Land Deep in the Atlantic skies, St. Brandan's Paradise! Another Woman there, Mighty and wondrous fair,

Stands on her shore-rock:- -one uplifted

hand