eplace.

Not all, indeed; for who but yearns
To call some kindred heart his own?
Some friend to whom he fondly turns,
And with whom he is still alone,
Since each, while absolutely free,
Respects the other's privacy.

To such his pent-up love o'erflows;
With such his soul's seclusion ends;
For each the other's nature knows,
And every motive comprehends;
So perfectly do both agree,
So close their bond of sympathy!

But those who come to wear away
With me the time they deem a bore,
And blithely rob me of a day
Which God Himself cannot restore--
From such, at risk of being rude,
I will preserve my solitude.

Their vapid visits I refuse;
Their forced attachment I decline;
I surely have the right to choose
The friends, whose lives shall blend with mine;
My bark shall gain the open sea
With but the few I love and me.

GRATITUDE

The sun is on the mountain crest,
The sky without a cloud,
The moon is slipping down the west,
The robin's song is loud;
White blossoms crown the apple trees,
The dew is on the thorn,
The scent of roses fills the breeze,--
Thank God, another morn!

The sunset embers smoulder low,
The moon climbs o'er the hill,
The peaks have caught the alpenglow,
The robin's song is still;
The hush of peace is on the earth,
With stars the sky grows bright,
The fire is kindled on my hearth,--
Thank God, another night!

IN TENEBRIS

All the lights have been extinguished
In my closely-curtained room,
Nothing now can be distinguished
In the all-pervading gloom;
And through darkness, so alluring,
I would float away to sleep,
Like a boat that slips its mooring,
And moves gently toward the deep.

How delightful this seclusion
From the garish light of day,--
All its turmoil and confusion
Pushed, a little while, away!
Neither men nor things shall try me
Till to-morrow brings its light;
Let my cares go drifting by me!
I'll not think of them to-night.

Social cant and empty phrases,
Base returns for kindness shown,
Envy's serpent-smile, and praises
Which convey, for bread, a stone,--
What a joy to have rejected
All such griefs, of evil born!
What a boon to feel protected
From their advent until morn!

Moon and stars, without, are gleaming
Over snow-capped peaks sublime,
But to-night I'll give to dreaming,
Nor esteem it wasted time;
Nay, through darkness, so alluring,
I will float away to sleep,
Like a boat that slips its mooring,
And moves gently toward the deep.