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Oh, weary are the paths of Earth, and

hard ! And living hearts alone are ours to

guard. At least, begrudge not to the sore dis

traught The reverent silence of our pitying

thought. Life, too, is sacred; and he best for

gives Who says: He errs, but - tenderly! He lives.

--Mary Mapes Dodge.

THE GRASSHOPPER AND THE

CRICKET

G

REEN little vaulter in the

sunny grass, Catching your heart up at

the feel of June,

Sole voice that's heard amidst the lazy noon When e'en the bees lag at the summon

ing brass; And you, warm little housekeeper, who

class With those who think the candles

come too soon, Loving the fire, and with your trick

some tune Nick the glad silent moments as they pass. O sweet and tiny cousins, that belong, One to the fields, the other to the

hearth, Both have your sunshine; both, though

small, are strong At your clear hearts; and both seem

given to earth To sing in thoughtful ears this natural

song, In doors and out, summer and winter, mirth.

-Leigh Hunt.

TIME AND CHANGE

7

TIME and Change, they

range and range O

From sunshine round to

thunder! They glance and go as the great winds blow, And the best of our dreams drive

under: For Time and Change estrange,

estrangeAnd, now they have looked and seen us, O we that were dear, we are all too

near With the thick of the world between us. O Death and Time, they chime and

chime Like bells at sunset falling !They end the song, they right the

wrong, They set the old echoes calling: For Death and Time bring on the

prime
Of God's own chosen weather,
And we lie in the peace of the Great

Release
As once in the grass together.

-William Ernest Henley.

THE CHOIR INVISIBLE

Longum illud tempus, quum non ero, magis me movet, quam hoc exiguum.--Cicero.

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MAY I join the choir

invisible Of those immortal dead

who live again

In minds made better by their presence: live In pulses stirr'd to generosity, In deeds of daring rectitude, in scorn For miserable aims that end with self, In thoughts sublime that pierce the

night like stars, And with their mild persistence urge

man's search To vaster issues.

So to live is heaven: To make undying music in the world, Breathing as beauteous order that controls With growing sway the growing life of

man. So we inherit that sweet purity For which we struggled, fail'd, and agoniz'd

With widening retrospect that bred

despair. Rebellious flesh that would not be sub

dued, A vicious parent shaming still its child, Poor anxious penitence, is quick dis

solved; Its discords, quenched by meeting har

monies, Die in the large and charitable air. And all our rarer, better, truer self, That sobb’d religiously in yearning song, That watched to ease the burthen of the

world, Laboriously tracing what must be, And what may yet be better, — saw

within A worthier image for the sanctuary, And shap'd it forth before the multi

tude, Divinely human, raising worship so To higher reverence more mix'd with

love, That better self shall live till human

Time Shall fold its eyelids, and the human sky

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