of knowing the Good so few, that he may have chances hereafter,
perhaps continually fresh ones, to all eternity.

_Letters and Memories_. 1852.

SAINTS' DAYS, FASTS, & FESTIVALS.

JULY 25.
St. James, Apostle and Martyr.

And they will know his worth
Years hence . . .
And crown him martyr; and his name will ring
Through all the shores of earth, and all the stars
Whose eyes are sparkling through their tears to see
His triumph, Preacher and Martyr. . .
. . . . .
. . . It is over; and the woe that's dead,
Rises next hour a glorious angel.

_Santa Maura_.

August.

"I cannot tell what you say, green leaves,
I cannot tell what you say;
But I know that there is a spirit in you,
And a word in you this day.

"I cannot tell what ye say, rosy rocks,
I cannot tell what ye say;
But I know that there is a spirit in you,
And a word in you this day.

"I cannot tell what ye say, brown streams,
I cannot tell what ye say;
But I know, in you too, a spirit doth live,
And a word in you this day."

"Oh! rose is the colour of love and youth,
And green is the colour of faith and truth,
And brown of the fruitful clay.
The earth is fruitful and faithful and young,
And her bridal morn shall rise erelong,
And you shall know what the rocks and streams
And the laughing green woods say."

_Dartside_, _August_ 1849.

Sight and Insight. August 1.

Do the work that's nearest,
Though it's dull at whiles,
Helping, when you meet them,
Lame dogs over stiles;
See in every hedgerow
Marks of angels' feet,
Epics in each pebble
Underneath our feet.

_The Invitation_. 1857.

Genius and Character. August 2.

I have no respect for genius (I do not even acknowledge its existence)
where there is no strength and steadiness of character. If any one
pretends to be more than a man he must begin by proving himself a man at
all.

_Two Years Ago_, chap. xv.

Nature's Student. August 3.

The perfect naturalist must be of a reverent turn of mind--giving Nature
credit for an inexhaustible fertility and variety, which will keep him
his life long, always reverent, yet never superstitious; wondering at the
commonest, but not surprised by the most strange; free from the idols of
sense and sensuous loveliness; able to see grandeur in the minutest
objects, beauty in the most ungainly: estimating each thing not carnally,
as the vulgar do, by its size, . . . but spiritually, by th