And six or seven shells,

A bottle with bluebells

And two French copper coins, ranged there with

careful art,

To comfort his sad heart.

So when that night I pray'd

To God, I wept, and said:

Ah, when at last we die with tranced breath,

Not vexing Thee in death,

And Thou rememberest of what toys

We made our joys,

How weakly understood,

Thy great commanded good,

Then, fatherly not less

Than I whom Thou hast moulded from the clay,

Thou'lt leave Thy wrath, and say,

"I will be sorry for their childishness."

COVENTRY PATMORE.

LOSS AND GAIN.

YRIAD Roses, unregretted, perish in their vernal bloom,

That the essence of their sweetness once

your beauty may perfume.

Myriad Veins of richest life-blood empty for their priceless worth,

To exalt one Will imperial over spacious realms of earth.

Myriad Hearts are pained and broken that one Poet may be taught

To discern the shapes of passion and describe them as he ought.

Myriad Minds of heavenly temper pass as passes moon or star,

That one philosophic Spirit may ascend the solar car.

Sacrifice and Self-Devotion hallow earth and fill the

skies,

And the meanest life is sacred whence the highest

may arise.

RICHARD, LORD HOUGHTON.

LOSS AND GAIN.

YRIAD Roses, unregretted, perish in their

vernal bloom,

That the essence of their sweetness once

your beauty may perfume.

Myriad Veins of richest life-blood empty for their priceless worth,

To exalt one Will imperial over spacious realms of earth.

Myriad Hearts are pained and broken that one Poet may be taught

To discern the shapes of passion and describe them as he ought,

Myriad Minds of heavenly temper pass as passes

moon or star,

That one philosophic Spirit may ascend the solar car.

Sacrifice and Self-Devotion hallow earth and fill the

skies,

And the meanest life is sacred whence the highest

may arise.

RICHARD, LORD HOUGHTON.