till and listen! that loud voice hath sung
Where mountains rise, where desert sands are blown;
And when man's voice is dumb, forevermore
'Twill murmur on its craggy shores among,
Singing of gods and nations overthrown.

W.P. FOSTER.

At Gibraltar.

I.

England, I stand on thy imperial ground,
Not all a stranger; as thy bugles blow,
I feel within my blood old battles flow,--
The blood whose ancient founts in thee are found.
Still surging dark against the Christian bound
Wide Islam presses; well its peoples know
Thy heights that watch them wandering below;
I think how Lucknow heard their gathering sound.
I turn and meet the cruel turbaned face;
England, 'tis sweet to be so much thy son!
I feel the conqueror in my blood and race;
Last night Trafalgar awed me, and to-day
Gibraltar wakened; hark, thy evening gun
Startles the desert over Africa!

II.

Thou art the rock of empire, set mid-seas
Between the East and West, that God has built;
Advance thy Roman borders where thou wilt,
While run thy armies true with His decrees.
Law, justice, liberty,--great gifts are these;
Watch that they spread where English blood is spilt,
Lest, mixt and sullied with his country's guilt,
The soldier's life-stream flow and Heaven displease.
Two swords there are: one naked, apt to smite,
Thy blade of war; and, battled-storied, one
Rejoices in the sheath and hides from light
American I am; would wars were done!
Now westward look, my country bids Good-night,--
Peace to the world from ports without a gun!

G.E. WOODBERRY.

Jerry an' Me.

No matter how the chances are,
Nor when the winds may blow,
My Jerry there has left the sea
With all its luck an' woe:
For who would try the sea at all,
Must try it luck or no.

They told him--Lor', men take no care
How words they speak may fall--
They told him blunt, he was too old,
Too slow with oar an' trawl,
An' this is how he left the sea
An' luck an' woe an' all.

Take any man on sea or land
Out of his beaten way,
If he is young 'twill do, but then,
If he is old an' gray,
A month will be a year to him,
Be all to him you may.

He sits by me, but most he walks
The door-yard for a deck,
An' scans the boat a-goin' out
Till she becomes a speck,
Then turns away, his face as wet
As if she we