IOO All around with a slumberous A simple truthfulness, and these sound, have lent her The singing waves slide up the A dignity as moveless as the strand, centre ; And there, where the smooth, wet So that no influence of our earth Voices sweet, from far and (An all unwitting, childlike gift in HERS is a spirit deep, and crys tal-clear; her) Not freer is to give than meek to bear; And, though herself not unacquaint with care, Hath in her heart wide room for all that be, Her heart that hath no secrets of its own, But open is as eglantine full blown. Calmly beneath her earnest face it Cloudless forever is her brow se lies, out a fear, rene, Free without boldness, meek with- Speaking calm hope and trust within her, whence Quicker to look than speak its Welleth a noiseless spring of pasympathies; tience, Far down into her large and pa- That keepeth all her life so fresh, tient eyes so green 30 I gaze, deep-drinking of the infi- | And full of holiness, that every look, nite, As, in the mid-watch of a clear, The greatness of her woman's soul I look into the fathomless blue Unto me bringeth blessing, and a skies. An Eden where the snake did Of worthiness, that doth not fear eth she never enter; to take fears to speak She hath a natural, wise sincer- From others, but which always ity, Its thanks in utterance, for the That passeth by upon the other giver's sake; 40 side; a lie. The deep religion of a thankful For in her soul there never dwelt heart, Which rests instinctively in Hea- Right from the hand of God her ven's clear law spirit came With a full peace, that never can Unstained, and she hath ne'er for depart From its own steadfastness; - a holy awe gotten whence It came, nor wandered far from thence, For holy things, - not those which But laboreth to keep her still the But such as are revealed to the Near to her place of birth, that she eyes may not 70 Of a true woman's soul bent down Soil her white raiment with an In-seeing sympathy is hers, She hath not shrunk from evils of which chasteneth No less than loveth, scorning to be bound this life, But hath gone calmly forth into the strife, With fear of blame, and yet which And all its sins and sorrows hath No want of faith, that chills with She walks so bright and heaven sidelong eye, like therein, Hath she; no jealousy, no Levite Too wise, too meek, too womanly, to sin. pride Like a lone star through riven Why should we any more be storm-clouds seen alone? By sailors, tempest-tost upon the Alone, alone, ah woe! alone! 90 sea, Telling of rest and peaceful hea. Oh, 't is a bitter and dreary word, The saddest by man's ear ever heard! vens nigh, Unto my soul her star-like soul hath been, Her sight as full of hope and calm to me; We each are young, we each have a heart, Why stand we ever coldly apart? For she unto herself hath builded Must we forever, then, be alone? Alone, alone, ah woe! alone! high A home serene, wherein to lay her head, Earth's noblest thing, a Woman WITH A PRESSED FLOWER perfected. SERENADE THIS little blossom from afar Hath come from other lands to thine; For, once, its white and drooping star FROM the close shut windows Could see its shadow in the Rhine. gleams no spark, The night is chilly, the night is Perchance some fair-haired Ger The poplars shiver, the pine-trees Hath plucked one from the self moan, My hair by the autumn breeze is Under thy window I sing alone, same stalk, And numbered over, half afraid, 'He loves me, loves me not,' she cries; The darkness is pressing coldly 'He loves me more than earth or around, heaven!' The windows shake with a lonely And then glad tears have filled her sound, The stars are hid and the night is drear, eyes To find the number was uneven. The heart of silence throbs in thine And thou must count its petals Alone in the shell of this great With freshness of New England And gladsomeness, where'er I be, me For Nature, ever kind to love, THE BEGGAR A BEGGAR through the world From place to place I wander by. A little of thy steadfastness, That the world's blasts may round And I yield gently to and fro, While my stout-hearted trunk below And firm-set roots unshaken be. Ye have been very kind and good To me, since I've been in the wood; Ye have gone nigh to fill my heart; But good-by, kind friends, every one, I've far to go ere set of sun; The day was high ere I could And so my journey 's scarce begun. Heaven help me! how could I for- To beg of thee, dear violet! That blossoms here as well, un- Some of thy stern, unyielding As if before the world thou 'dst might, been, Enduring still through day and Oh, give, to strengthen me. |