And again the tongues of flame

Start exulting and exclaim:

"These are prophets, bards, and seers;

In the horoscope of nations,

'Like ascendant constellations,

They control the coming years."

But the night-wind cries: "Despair!

Those who walk with feet of air

Leave no long-enduring marks;

At God's forges incandescent

Mighty hammers beat incessant,

These are but the flying sparks.

And I answer, "Though it be,

Why should that discomfort me?

No endeavor is in vain;

Its reward is in the doing,

And the rapture of pursuing

Is the prize the vanquished gain."

THE BELLS OF LYNN,

HEARD AT NAHANT.

CURFEW of the setting sun! O Bells of
Lynn !

O requiem of the dying day! O Bells of

Lynn!

From the dark belfries of yon cloud-cathedral

wafted,

Your sounds aerial seem to float, O Bells of

Lynn!

Borne on the evening wind across the crimson

twilight,

O'er land and sea they rise and fall, O Bells of

Lynn!

The fisherman in his boat, far out beyond the

headland,

Listens, and leisurely rows ashore, O Bells of

Lynn!

Over the shining sands the wandering cattle

homeward

Follow each other at your call, O Bells of

Lynn!