29

TRUTH! O Freedom! how are ye still born

In the rude stable, in the manger nursed! What humble hands unbar those gates of morn Through which the splendors of the New Day burst!

Who is it will not dare himself to trust?

Who is it hath not strength to stand alone? Who is it thwarts and bilks the inward MUST? He and his works, like sand, from earth are blown.

Shall we not heed the lesson taught of old,
And by the Present's lips repeated still,
In our own single manhood to be bold,
Fortressed in conscience and impregnable will?

We stride the river daily at its spring,

Nor, in our childish thoughtlessness, foresee What myriad vassal streams shall tribute bring, How like an equal it shall greet the sea.

O small beginnings, ye are great and strong,
Based on a faithful heart and weariless brain !
Ye build the future fair, ye conquer wrong,
Ye earn the crown, and wear it not in vain.
LOWELL (To W. L. Garrison).

30

MALL service is true service while it lasts:

Sof humblest friends, bright creature! scorn

not one;

The Daisy, by the shadow that it casts, Protects the lingering dew-drop from the sun. WORDSWORTH (In a Child's Album).

31

ITTLE thinks, in the field, yon red-cloaked clown

LT

Of thee from the hill-top looking down;
The heifer that lows in the upland farm,
Far-heard, lows not thine ear to charm;
The sexton, tolling his bell at noon,
Deems not that great Napoleon

Stops his horse, and lists with delight,

Whilst his files sweep round yon Alpine height;

Nor knowest thou what argument

Thy life to thy neighbor's creed has lent.
All are needed by each one;

Nothing is fair or good alone.

I thought the sparrow's note from heaven,
Singing at dawn on the alder bough;

I brought him home, in his nest, at even;
He sings the song, but it pleases not now,
For I did not bring home the river and sky;-
He sang to my ear,-they sang to my eye.
The delicate shells lay on the shore;

The bubbles of the latest wave
Fresh pearls to their enamel gave;
And the bellowing of the savage sea
Greeted their safe escape to me.
I wiped away the weeds and foam,

I fetched my sea-born treasures home;

But the poor, unsightly, noisome things
Had left their beauty on the shore

With the sun, and the sand, and the wild uproar.
EMERSON (Each and All).

32

VERY night and every morn

E some to misery are born;

Every morn and every night

Some are born to sweet delight;
Some are born to sweet delight,
Some are born to endless night.
Joy and woe are woven fine,
A clothing for the soul divine;
Under every grief and pine
Runs a joy with silken twine.
It is right it should be so:
Man was made for joy and woe;
And when this we rightly know,
Safely through the world we go.

BLAKE (Auguries of Innocence).