es vilely, thus, to one who reads them
right.

THE STORMY PETREL.

Far in the wilderness of waves,
Where vision dieth 'mid endless motion,
Where only the madden'd storm-wind raves,
And sinketh its chains in the soundless ocean;
Far from the ken and the power of men,
And lone as though Earth were in chaos again,
The Stormy Petrel cleaveth the air,
And maketh the surging billow its lair.

The black cloud scuddeth along on high,
Silent and swift as the angel Death,
Led by Euroclydon through the sky
Unto its victim with bated breath,
Whilst only God and the Petrel seeth
The path by which the Avenger fleeth,
And with shrill accent of wail and mourning
Riseth the Petrel's wild cry of warning.

Anon the bones of the wreck come past
Bitterly mock'd of the roaring tide,
From wave to wave in derision cast
With scorn and jeers at poor human pride;
And still the Petrel with lightning sweep
Circles their way through the raging deep,
Settling in awe on some shatter'd spar,
And tracking its course as it drifts afar.

Into this realm of the winds and waves
Man cometh not with his living soul,
But like the mounds over clammy graves,
Over his body the surges roll;
No mortal weeper hath seen his tomb,
Buried he lies in eternal gloom,
Save that the Petrel with wailing cry
Hover'd around as he floated by.

What doth the Petrel so far away
From the home of love and the field of strife?
In this lone spot doth the Petrel stay
To show the beauty and power of LIFE.
For the broad Earth and the boundless sea,
Time and the endless eternity,
All, all acknowledge the spirit's controul,
And like the frail body, were made for the soul.

TO ----

When the stars are up and keeping
Holy vigils in the skies,
Whilst Night's train is passing slowly,
Footsteps hush'd, and voices lowly,
And on earth sweet dreams are steeping
Slumbering souls in Paradise,
In my heart there comes a vision,
Angel-like from its elysian,
Bent upon some blessed mission,
And its form resembleth thee
In thy grace and purity.

I with tranced rapture gazing,
Scan each lineament divine,
Trace again thy pensive sweetness,
Beauty's soul, and love's completeness,
Heart and hands devoutly raising
Like a pilgrim at Love's shrine,
Evermore within me feeling
Like a charm thy beauty stealing,
Hushing pain, and sor