ce it has happened that I am thrown

"From the lighter element, where I grew,
Down to another so hard and new, {439}
And beside a personage so august,
Abashed I will cover my head with dust,
And quickly retire from the sight of one
Whom time nor season, nor storm nor sun,
Nor the gentler dew, nor the grinding wheel,
Has ever subdued or made to feel."

And soon in the earth she sunk away
From the comfortless spot where the Pebble lay;
But it was not long ere the soil was broke
By the peering head of an ancient oak;
And as it arose, and its branches spread,
The Pebble looked up, and, wondering, said,--
"A modest acorn never to tell
What was enclosed in her simple shell--

"That the pride of the forest was thus shut up
Within the space of her little cup!
And meekly to sink in the darksome earth
To prove that nothing could hide her worth.
And, O, how many will tread on me
To come and admire that beautiful tree,
Whose head is towering toward the sky,
Above such a worthless thing as I!

"Useless and vain, a cumberer here,
I have been idling from year to year;
But never from this shall a vaunting word
From the humble Pebble again be heard,
Till something without me, or within,
Can show the purpose for which I've been!"
The Pebble could not its vow forget
And it lies there wrapped in silence yet.
--_Gould_.

{440}

A PSALM OF LIFE

Tell me not, in mournful numbers,
Life is but an empty dream!
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
And things are not what they seem.

Life is real! Life is earnest!
And the grave is not its goal;
"Dust thou art, to dust returnest,"
Was not spoken of the soul.

Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
Is our destined end or way;
But to act, that each to-morrow
Find us farther than to-day.

Art is long and Time is fleeting,
And our hearts, though stout and brave,
Still, like muffled drums, are beating
Funeral marches to the grave.

In the world's broad field of battle,
In the bivouac of Life,
Be not like dumb, driven cattle!
Be a hero in the strife!

Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant!
Let the dead Past bury its dead!
Act,--act in the living Present!
Heart within, and God o'erhead! {441}

Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave