nd them
In wreaths upon her brow.

Far up along the mountain,
And in the valleys green,
In the field, and by the fountain,
The smiling ones are seen;
Some looking up to heaven,
With eyes of deepest blue;
Some stooping down at even
To quaff the sparkling dew.

And from them all there speaketh
A language sweet and pure,
Fitted for him who seeketh
A God's nomenclature.
As tidal pulses thrill the seas,
And moments build the hours,
Heaven breathes her unvoiced mysteries
In sermons from the Flowers.

{123}

THE UNATTAINABLE.

I yearn for the Unattainable;
For a glimpse of a brighter day,
When hatred and strife,
With their legions rife,
Shall forever have passed away;
When pain shall cease,
And the dawn of peace
Come down from heaven above,
And man can meet his fellow-man
In the spirit of Christian Love.

I yearn for the Unattainable;
For a Voice that may long be still,
To compel the mind,
As heaven designed,
To work the Eternal Will;
When the brute that sleeps
In the heart's still deeps
Will be changed to Pity's dove,
And man can meet his fellow-man
In the spirit of Perfect Love.

{124}

YEARNINGS.

I long for diviner regions,--
The spirit would reach its goal;
Though, this world hath surpassing beauty,
It warreth against the soul.

There's a cloud in the eastern heaven;
Beyond it, a cold gray sky;
But I know that the sun's rare radiance
Will brighten it by and by.

In the fane of my soul is glowing
The joy of a hope to come,
That will touch with its Memnon finger
The lips that are cold and dumb:

Till illumed by the smile of heaven,
And blest with a purer life,
Will the gloom that o'ershades my spirit
Depart like a vanquished strife.

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INGRATITUDE.

Full on the wave the moonlight weeps,
To quiet its weary breast;
Cruelly cold the mad wave leaps,
With the moonshine on its crest;
Or with scowl, or growl, to the shore it creeps,
And sinks to its selfish rest.

Full on yon man-brute smiles the wife,
To gladden his turbid breast;
Savagely stern he seeks the life
Where he erewhile sought for zest;
With a curse, or worse, he ends the strife,
And sinks to his drunken rest.

Sea! has the moon no charms for thee
That can to