No clouds at dawn, but as the sun climbed | From the low sun the rain-fringe swept higher, White columns, thunderous, splendid, up the sky Floated and stood, heaped in his steady fire, A stately company. aside, Bright in his rosy glow, And wide a splendor streamed through all the sky; O'er sea and land one soft, delicious blush, That touched the gray rocks lightly, tenderly; A transitory flush. WILLIAM MORRIS. HARRIET MCEWEN KIMBALL. And still and bright the evening star Twinkles above the golden bar That in the west lies quietly. O, steadfastly the sparrow sings, And sweet the sound; and sweet the touch Of wooing winds; and sweet the sight Put while so clear the sparrow sings The crashing of the riven wreck, And sounds of agony and fear. How is it that the birds can sing? Woe is so long and joy so brief; 297 Pipe the untroubled trouble of the year; | Yet we are saved, and we may rest; Pipe low the painless pain; ALL'S WELL. THE day is ended. Ere I sink to sleep, With loving-kindness curtain thou my bed, And cool in rest my burning pilgrim feet; Thy pardon be the pillow for my head,So shall my sleep be sweet. At peace with all the world, dear Lord, and thee, No fears my soul's unwavering faith can shake; All's well, whichever side the grave for me The morning light may break! HARRIET W. PRESTON. [U. s. A.] THE SURVIVORS. IN this sad hour, so still, so late, Amid the wrecks of dear desire That ride the waves of life no more; As stranded voyagers light their fire Upon a lonely island shore. And though we deem that soft and fair, And, hearing each the other's voice, We cannot hold ourselves unblest, Although we may not quite rejoice. We'll warm our hearts, and softly sing And dream forgotten dreams of heaven. Yet she heard the varying message, voiceless to all ears beside: "He will come," the flowers whispered; "Come no more," the dry hills sighed. Still she found him with the waters lifted by the morning breeze, Still she lost him with the folding of the great white-tented seas; Until hollows chased the dimples from her cheeks of olive brown, And at times a swift, shy moisture dragged the long sweet lashes down; Or the small mouth curved and quivered as for some denied caress, And the fair young brow was knitted in an infantine distress. Then the grim Commander, pacing where the brazen cannon are, Comforted the maid with proverbs, wisdom gathered from afar; Bits of ancient observation by his fathers garnered, each As a pebble worn and polished in the So in vain the barren hillsides with their current of his speech: gay serapes blazed, Blazed and vanished in the dust-clond that their flying hoofs had raised. |