Let me keep on, abiding and unfearing
Thy will always,

Through a long century's ripening fruition
Or a short day's;

Thou canst not come too soon; and I can wait
If Thou come late.

Sarah Chauncey Woolsey [1845-1905]

"EX LIBRIS"

IN an old book at even as I read

Fast fading words adown my shadowy page,
I crossed a tale of how, in other age,

At Arqua, with his books around him, sped
The word to Petrarch; and with noble head
Bowed gently o'er his volume that sweet sage
To Silence paid his willing seigniorage.

And they who found him whispered, "He is dead!"
Thus timely from old comradeships would I
To Silence also rise. Let there be night,
Stillness, and only these staid watchers by,
And no light shine save my low study light-
Lest of his kind intent some human cry

Interpret not the Messenger aright.

Arthur Upson [1877-1908]

IN EXTREMIS

TILL dawn the Winds' insuperable throng
Passed over like archangels in their might,
With roar of chariots from their stormy height,

And broken thunder of mysterious song

By mariner or sentry heard along

The star-usurping battlements of night-
And wafture of immeasurable flight,

And high-blown trumpets mutinous and strong.
Till louder on the dreadful dark I heard

The shrieking of the tempest-tortured tree,

And deeper on immensity the call

And tumult of the empire-forging sea;

erhaps, this trust has sprung

m one short word

me when I was young,young, I heard

ng not that God's name signed

, and sealed me His, though blind.

3253

But whether this be seal or sign
Within, without,

It matters not. The bond divine
I never doubt.

I know He set me here, and still,
And glad, and blind, I wait His will;

But listen, listen, day by day,
To hear their tread

Who bear the finished web away,

And cut the thread,

And bring God's message in the sun,

"Thou poor blind spinner, work is done." Helen Hunt Jackson [1831-1885]

"SOME TIME AT EVE"

SOME time at eve when the tide is low,
I shall slip my mooring and sail away,
With no response to the friendly hail
Of kindred craft in the busy bay.
In the silent hush of the twilight pale,

When the night stoops down to embrace the day, And the voices call in the waters' flow

Some time at eve when the tide is low,
I shall slip my mooring and sail away.

Through the purpling shadows that darkly trail
O'er the ebbing tide of the Unknown Sea,
I shall fare me away, with a dip of sail
And a ripple of waters to tell the tale

Of a lonely voyager, sailing away

To the Mystic Isles where at anchor lay The crafts of those who have sailed before O'er the Unknown Sea to the Unseen Shore.

A few who have watched me sail away
Will miss my craft from the busy bay;

Some friendly barks that were anchored near,
Some loving souls that my heart held dear,
In silent sorrow will drop a tear—

AFTERWARDS

e poor rags of womanhood,—
e, whereon the wild winds played
usic, tattered and outfrayed,
ut, can hold no more of good,
g, or sense of sun and shade.

ghbors elbow me (hard by

ck yews) I know I shall not know, int of changing winds that blow, en arrow, set on high

ire, nor mark who come and go.