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ARM whispering through the slender olive

leaves

Came to me a gentle sound,

Whispering of a secret found.

In the clear sunshine 'mid the golden sheaves:

Said it was sleeping for me in the morn,
Called it gladness, called it joy,

Drew me on "Come hither, boy "

To where the blue wings rested on the corn.

I thought the gentle sound had whispered trueThought the little heaven mine,

Leaned to clutch the thing divine,

And saw the blue wings melt within the blue.

GEORGE ELIOT.

AFTER-THOUGHT.

AN dwells apart, though not alone,

He walks among his peers unread ;
The best of thoughts which he hath known,
For lack of listeners are not said.

Yet dreaming on earth's clustered isles,
He saith, "They dwell not lone like men,"
Forgetful that their sun-flecked smiles

Flash far beyond each other's ken.

He looks on God's eternal suns,
That sprinkle the celestial blue,

And saith, "Ah! happy shining ones,
I would that men were grouped like

Yet this is sure the loveliest star

That clustered with its peers we see,

Only because from us so far

Doth near its fellows seem to be.

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JEAN INGELOW.

ISOLATION.

ES! in the sea of life enisled,

With echoing straits between us thrown,
Dotting the shoreless watery wild,

We mortal millions live alone.

The islands feel the enclasping flow,
And then their endless bounds they know.

But when the moon their billows lights,
And they are swept by balms of spring,
And in their glens, on starry nights,
The nightingales divinely sing;

And lovely notes, from shore to shore,
Across the sounds and channels pour-

Oh then a longing like despair
Is to their farthest caverns sent;

For surely once, they feel, we were

Parts of a single continent!

Now round us spreads the watery plain-

Oh might our marges meet again!

Who order'd that their longing's fire
Should be, as soon as kindled, cool'd?
Who renders vain their deep desire?
A God, a God their severance ruled!
And bade betwixt their shores to be
The unplumb'd, salt, estranging sea.

MATTHEW ARNOLD.

THE SOLITUDE OF LIFE.

SHEN Fancy's exhalations rise
From youth's delicious morn,

Our eyes seem made for others' eyes,
Spirit for spirit born:

But time the truthful faith controls,—

We learn too soon, alas!

How wide the gulf between two souls,

How difficult to pass!

In twilight and in fearfulness

We feel our path along

From heart to heart, yet none the less
Our way is often wrong.

And then new dangers must be faced,

New doubts must be dispelled,—

For not one step can be retraced
That once the Past has held.

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