and vigorous, you see in him one of the earnest workers for the
elevation of our humanity.

The utilities of the world will take care of themselves: let us foster
the beautiful, because, like all divine attributes, man reaches it
through striving, and is made better by its contemplation.

Palmer does not look older than forty, and has perhaps not yet attained
the fulness of his powers, but has in him the elements of a healthy
growth.

Work on, thou almoner of sweetest joys, thou pilgrim in that fairy realm
whence come the high ideals of life; work on, striver for the perfect
type of beauty and of truth, and in thy progress let the people trace
our human nature rising to diviner heights--expanding to sublimer
bounds!

CLOUDS.

RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED TO PROFESSOR GUYOT.

High and fathomless above us vaults the pure aerial sky,
Solemn bends its arch of Beauty round a world where all things die.

On the dome through which Earth's swinging, spun of palpitating air,
Angel artists fresco vapors into pictures passing fair.

No cold canvas of dead color has the Mighty Master given:
Trembles with His Infinity the azure vault of Heaven.

On and in the lucent background float the ever-changeful forms,
Sometimes glowing into glory, sometimes glooming into storms.

God's blest seal is on creation; signs and symbols throng the sky,
Though too dull to read their meaning droops the stolid human eye.

Over mountain, over valley throng the clouds to soothe the sight;
Through the dim walls of the city gleam they buoyant, fleeting, bright.

Gentle, dreadful, or fantastic--nearer, farther as we gaze;
Varied, spiritual, tender, forms and melts the surging haze.

'Heavenly secrets' breathe around us--lowly flowers on the sod,
Cloudland's curves and grading colors veil the Infinite of God.

The Infinite--we shudder! but wild longings through us steal
As we vainly strive to grasp It till our failing senses reel.

Ever longing, never grasping, though in tenderness It stoop
To shade the scented cups of flowers, to bend them as they droop.

For through infinite gradations pass the changeful hues of light,
That the infinite through color may send greetings to the sight.

Through ne'er-returning, endless curves, flowers, trees, clouds,
mountains pass,
That man may see the Infinite through nature's magic glass.

Oh, tender stooping! soothing! Infinite Love must be