grasses, clover,
Bobolinks, meadowlarks--these love I!
Whiskodink!_

{100}

GLORY-ROSES.

"Only a penny, Sir!"
A child held to my view
A bunch of "glory-roses," red
As blood, and wet with dew.

(O earnest little face,
With living light in eye,
Your roses are too fair for earth,
And you seem of the sky!)

{101}

"My beauties, Sir!" he said,
"Only a penny, too!"
His face shone in their ruddy glow
A Rafael cherub true.

"Yestreen their hoods were close
About their faces tight,
But ere the sun was up, I saw
That God had come last night.

"O Sir, to see them then!
The bush was all aflame!--
O yes, they're glory-roses, Sir,
That is their holy name.

{102}

"Only a penny, Sir!"--
Heaven seemed across the way!
I took the red, red beauties home--
Roses to me for aye!

For aye, that radiant voice
As if from heaven it came--
"O yes, they're glory-roses, Sir,
That is their holy name!"

{103}

THE WIND.

The lithe wind races and sings
Over the grasses and wheat--
See the emerald floor as it springs
To the touch of invisible feet!

Ah, later, the fir and the pine
Shall stoop to its weightier tread,
As it tramps the thundering brine
Till it shudders and whitens in dread!

Breath of man! a glass of thine own
Is the wind on the land, on the sea--
Joy of life at thy touch!--full grown,
Destruction and death maybe!

{104}

THE CRYSTAL SPRING.

I.

Fair spirit of the plaining sea,
Thou heard'st Apollo's lyre!--
Now folded are thy silver wings
Thee sunward bore,
A dream and a desire.

Ranging the upper azure deeps,
The sunlight on thy wings,
How blanched thy purpose as there fell
The lightning's stroke,
And darkness on all things!

{105}

In agony of rain and hail,
And phantom dance of snow,
The chastening angels of the air
To mountain bleak
Consigned thee far below.

There in the arms of heartless frost,
And burdened with thy train,
The keen stars watched thy ageful way,
Till breast of earth
Warmed thee to life again.

And in thy course thou wert God's plow,
Thy furrow deep the valley
Of wooded walls and flowers to be,--
The circling sun
Keeps slow and sure the tally.

{106}

Reborn, thou waitedst not far down
The