I am the truth, mirrored in fancy's glass;

I am stability, all else will pass;

I am eternity, encircling time;

Kill me, none may; conquer me, nothing can—
I am God's soul, fused in the soul of man.

Ella Heath [18

THE INNER VISION

MOST sweet it is with unuplifted eyes

Το pace the ground, if path be there or none,
While a fair region round the traveller lies
Which he forbears again to look upon;
Pleased rather with some soft ideal scene,
The work of Fancy, or some happy tone
Of meditation, slipping in between

The beauty coming and the beauty gone.

-If Thought and Love desert us, from that day
Let us break off all commerce with the Muse:
With Thought and Love companions of our way—
Whate'er the senses take or may refuse,—

The Mind's internal heaven shall shed her dews
Of inspiration on the humblest lay.

William Wordsworth (1770-1850]

ON AN OLD SONG

LITTLE snatch of ancient song,
What has made thee live so long?

Flying on thy wings of rhyme

Lightly down the depths of time,
Telling nothing strange or rare,
Scarce a thought or image there,
Nothing but the old, old tale
Of a hapless lover's wail;

Offspring of an idle hour,

Whence has come thy lasting power?
By what turn of rhythm or phrase,
By what subtle careless grace,
Can thy music charm our ears
After full three hundred years?

To Song

marks of the human mind by one are left behind,

a subtle change is wrought e mould and cast of thought; es of reasoning pass away, s of beauty lose their sway; ls and causes that have made ✓ noble lives must fade, the words that thrilled of old seem hueless, dead, and cold; y's rainbow tints are flying, ghts, like men, are slowly dying; ings perish, and the strongest I do not last the longest; stately ship is seen no more, ragile skiff attains the shore; while the great and wise decay, all their trophies pass away,

2907

sudden thought, some careless rhyme,

loats above the wrecks of Time.

William Edward Hartpole Lecky [1838-1903]

TO SONG

ll remain all tears for lovely things
re enshrined the longing of great hearts,
on a lyre whence waking wonder starts,
afar upon immortal wings;

I be treasured tender wonderings,
ntest whisper that the soul imparts,

it secrets in all lonely parts
ture murmurs of her hidden springs.

of a song! here loveliness

ep unhindered of life's mortal toll,
noble things stand towering o'er the tide;
the years, untouched by time or stress,
weep on every wind that stirs the soul
nusic of a voice that never died!

Thomas S. Jones, Jr. [1882

VERSE

PAST ruined Ilion Helen lives,
Alcestis rises from the shades;
Verse calls them forth; 'tis verse that gives
Immortal youth to mortal maids.

Soon shall Oblivion's deepening veil
Hide all the peopled hills you see,
The gay, the proud, while lovers hail
These many summers you and me.
Walter Savage Landor [1775-1864]

AN OLD-FASHIONED POET

IN simpler verse than triolets,
Rondeau, or deft quatrain,
With breath of morning violets
In every dewy strain,
He sang from overflowing heart
His sweet old songs unspoiled by art.

Progressive years have passed since then-
The Muse has changed her ways;
No more through flowery mead and glen
A rustic maid she strays;

Amid the traffic of the town

We catch the flutter of her gown.

But one who knows her virgin grace
Gives back the songs she sung
And brings with glimpses of her face
The days when love was young.

O Muse immortal, singer true,
What harmonies unite the two!

Ada Foster Murray [18

POET AND LARK

WHEN leaves turn outward to the light,
And all the roads are fringed with green,

When larks are pouring, high, unseen,
The joy they find in song and flight,

ait Aimer, Sait Mourir" 2909

too, with the lark would wing
e flight, and, soaring, sing

arks drop downward to the nest,
day drops downward to the sea,
g and wing are fain to rest,
lark's dear wisdom guideth me,
oo turn within my door,

t to dream, and sing no more.
Mary Ainge de Vere [1844-

D CHANGE, UNCHANGING

h like the bird that sitteth by the rose, chill, and on the hill the first faint sunbeam

the buds' thick-folded green the first redshows,

of Hope and Spring,

beside thy rose!

th like the bird that sitteth by the rose, golden summer noon her golden heart o'er

axeth red, now pale, yet ever is the rose, th of Love and Youth,

eth like the bird that sitteth by the rose, e drooping stalk her brief sweet glory earth

kindling on the leaf that fadeth from the rose, g, remembering,

g beside thy rose!

Dora Greenwell [1821-1882]

SAIT AIMER, SAIT MOURIR”

my soul away!"

ke the Rose, and smiled; "within my cup

he sunbeams fall in flame, all day

drink my sweetness up!"

"I sigh my soul away!"

The Lily said; "all night the moonbeams pale Steal round and round me, whispering in their play An all too tender tale!"

"I give my soul away!”

The Violet said; "the West wind wanders on, The North wind comes; I know not what they say, And yet my soul is gone!"

Oh, Poet, burn away

Thy fervent soul! fond Lover at the feet
Of her thou lovest, sigh! dear Christian, pray,
And let the world be sweet!

Dora Greenwell (1821-1882)

TO THE POETS

BARDS of Passion and of Mirth,
Ye have left your souls on earth!
Have ye souls in heaven too,
Double-lived in regions new?
Yes, and those of heaven commune
With the spheres of sun and moon;
With the noise of fountains wondrous
And the parle of voices thund'rous;
With the whisper of heaven's trees
And one another, in soft ease
Seated on Elysian lawns,
Browsed by none but Dian's fawns;
Underneath large blue-bells tented,
Where the daisies are rose-scented,
And the rose herself has got
Perfume which on earth is not,
Where the nightingale doth sing,
Not a senseless, tranced thing,
But divine, melodious truth,
Philosophic numbers smooth;
Tales and golden histories
Of heaven and its mysteries.