FROM "PIPPA PASSES."

Day!

Faster and more fast,

O'er night's brim day boils at last :

Boils, pure gold, o'er the cloud-cup's brim
Where spurting and suppressed it lay,
For not a froth-flake touched the rim
Of yonder gap in the solid gray

Of the eastern cloud, an hour away:

But forth one wavelet, then another, curled, Till the whole sunrise, not to be suppressed, Rose, reddened, and its seething breast Flickered in bounds, grew gold, then overflowed the world.

Oh Day, if I squander a wavelet of thee,
A mite of my twelve-hours' treasure,.
-My Day, if I squander such labor or leis-

ure,

...

Then shame fall on Asolo, mischief on me!

All service ranks the same with God:

If now, as formerly he trod

Paradise, his presence fills

Our earth, each only as God wills

Can work-God's puppets, best and worst, Are we; there is no last, no first.

Say not a small event "! Why "small "?
Costs it more pain than this, ye call
A "great event," should come to pass,
Than that? Untwine me from the mass
Of deeds which make up life, one deed
Power shall fall short in or exceed!

The year's at the spring
And day's at the morn :
Morning's at seven :

The hillside's dew-pearled;
The lark's on the wing:
The snail's on the thorn:

God's in his heaven

All's right with the world!

FROM "PAULINE."

The black-thorn boughs,

So dark in the bare wood, when glistening In the sunshine were white with coming buds,

Like the bright side of a sorrow,

As life wanes, all its care and strife and toil Seem strangely valueless.

My God, my God, let me for once look on thee

As though naught else existed, we alone! And as creation crumbles, my soul's spark Expands till I can say,- Even from myself I need thee and I feel thee and I love thee. I do not plead my rapture in thy works For love of thee, nor that I feel as one

Who cannot die but there is that in me Which turns to thee, which loves or which should love.

FROM "A BLOT IN THE 'SCUTCHEON."

Wait for me. Pace the gallery and think
On the world's seemings and realities.

FROM "LURIA."

How inexhaustibly the spirit grows! One object, she seemed erewhile born to reach

With her whole energies and die content,— So like a wall at the world's edge it stood,

With naught beyond to live for,—is that reached?—

Already are new undreamed energies
Outgrowing under, and extending farther
To a new object: There's another world.

God's finger markes distinctions, all so fine,
We would confound: the lesser has its use,
Which, when it apes the greater, is foregone.

FROM "ONE WORD MORE."

God be thanked, the meanest of his crea

tures

Boasts two soul-sides, one to face the world

with,

One to show a woman when he loves her!

"DEAF AND DUMB."

A group by Woolner.

Only the prism's obstruction shows aright The secret of a sunbeam, breaks its ligt Into the jewelled bow from blankest white: So may a glory from defect arise:

Only by Deafness may the vexed Love wreak

Its insuppressive sense on brow and cheek,
Only by Dumbness adequately speak
As favored mouth could never, through

the eyes.

FROM "APPARENT FAILURE."

The Paris Morgue.

It's wiser being good than bad :
It's safer being meek than fierce :
It's fitter being sane than mad.

My own hope is, a sun will pierce
The thickest cloud earth ever stretched :
That, after Last, returns the First,
Though a wide compass round be fetched:
That what began best, can't end worst,
Nor what God blessed once, prove accurst.

FROM

"PRINCE HOHENSTIEL-SCHWAN

GAU."

I recognize

Power passing mine, immeasurable, God— Above me, whom he made, as heaven beyond

Earth-to use figures which assist our sense.