year.

"When wealth no more shall rest in mounded heaps,

But smit with freer light shall slowly melt In many streams to fatten lower lands, And light shall spread, and man be liker

man

Thro' all the season of the golden year. "Shall eagles not be eagles? wrens be

wrens?

If all the world were falcons, what of that? The wonder of the eagle were the less, But he not less the eagle. Happy days Roll onward, leading up the golden year. | "Fly, happy happy sails and bear the Press;

Fly happy with the mission of the Cross; Knit land to land, and blowing havenward With silks, and fruits, and spices, clear of toll,

Enrich the markets of the golden year. "But we grow old. Ah! when shall all men's good

Be each man's rule, and universal Peace Lie like a shaft of light across the land, And like a lane of beams athwart the sea, Thro' all the circle of the golden year?" Thus far he flow'd, and ended; where

you know him,

And broke it, James,
-old, but full
Of force and choler, and firm upon his feet,
And like an oaken stock in winter woods,
O'erflourish'd with the hoary clematis :
Then added, all in heat :

"What stuff is this! Old writers push'd the happy season back,

The more fools they,- we forward: dreamers both :

You most, that in an age, when every hour Must sweat her sixty minutes to the death, Liveon, God love us, as if the seedsman, rapt

Upon the teeming harvest, should not plunge

Match'd with an aged wife, I mete and dole

Unequal laws unto a savage race, That hoard, and sleep, and feed, and know not me.

I cannot rest from travel: I will drink Life to the lees: all times I have enjoy'd Greatly, have suffer'd greatly, both with those

That loved me, and alone; on shore, and when

Thro' scudding drifts the rainy Hyades
Vext the dim sea: I am become a name;
For always roaming with a hungry heart
Much have I seen and known; cities of men
And manners, climates, councils, govern-
ments,

Myself not least, but honor'd of them all;
And drunk delight of battle with my peers,
Far on the ringing plains of windy Troy.
I am a part of all that I have met;
Yet all experience is an arch wherethro'
Gleams that untravell'd world, whose
margin fades

For ever and for ever when I move.
How dull it is to pause, to make an end,
To rust unburnish'd, not to shine in use!
As tho' to breathe were life. Life piled
on life

Were all too little, and of one to me
Little remains: but every hour is saved
From that eternal silence, something

more,

A bringer of new things; and vile it were For some three suns to store and hoard myself,

And this gray spirit yearning in desire To follow knowledge like a sinking star, Beyond the utmost bound of human

thought.

ere I went to rest,

Did I look on great Orion sloping slowly

to the West.

Many a night I saw the Pleiads, rising thro' the mellow shade,

Glitter like a swarm of fire-flies tangled in a silver braid.

Here about the beach I wander'd, nourishing a youth sublime With the fairy tales of science, and the long result of Time;

When the centuries behind me like a fruitful land reposed; When I clung to all the present for the promise that it closed:

When I dipt into the future far as human eye could see;

Saw the Vision of the world, and all the wonder that would be.

In the Spring a fuller crimson comes upon the robin's breast;

In the Spring the wanton lapwing gets himself another crest;

In the Spring a livelier iris changes on the burnish'd dove; In the Spring a young man's fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love.

Then her cheek was pale and thinner than

should be for one so young, And her eyes on all my motions with a mute observance hung.

And I said, "My cousin Amy, speak, and

speak the truth to me, Trust me, cousin, all the current of my being sets to thee."

On her pallid cheek and forehead came a color and a light,

As I have seen the rosy red flushing in the northern night.

And she turn'd her bosom shaken with a sudden storm of sighs All the spirit deeply dawning in the dark of hazel eyes—

Saying, “I have hid my feelings, fearing

they should do me wrong"; Saying, "Dost thou love me, cousin?" weeping, "I have loved thee long."

it in his glowing hands; Every moment, lightly shaken, ran itself in golden sands.

Love took up the harp of Life, and smote on all the chords with might; Smote the chord of Self, that, trembling, pass'd in music out of sight.

Many a morning on the moorland did we hear the copses ring,

And her whisper throng'd my pulses with the fulness of the Spring.

Many an evening by the waters did we
watch the stately ships,
And our spirits rush'd together at the
touching of the lips.

O my cousin, shallow-hearted! O my
Amy, mine no more!
O the dreary, dreary moorland! O the
barren, barren shore !

Falser than all fancy fathoms, falser than all songs have sung,

Puppet to a father's threat, and servile to a shrewish tongue!

well to wish thee happy?- having known me to decline

Is it

to understand

Better thou wert dead before me, tho' I

slew thee with my hand!

Hadst thou less unworthy provedWould to God-for I had loved thee more than ever wife was loved.