THREE DAYS.

So much to do: so little done!

Ah! yesternight I saw the sun

Sink beamless down the vaulted gray-
The ghastly host of Yesterday.

So little done: so much to do!

Each morning breaks on conflicts new;
But eager, brave, I'll join the fray,
And fight the battle of Today.

So much to do: so little done!

But when it's o'er-the victory won-
Oh! then, my soul, this strife and sorrow
Will end in that great, glad Tomorrow.

-JOHN R. GILMORE.

A WORLD THAT'S FILLED WITH SUNLIGHT.

"This world," said Uncle Abel, “is a middlin' pleasant

place,

And you won't hear me hintin' that some other is the

case;

The birds keep sweetly singin', and they never charge

a cent

To fill the earth with music and my spirit with content; The air is full of oxygen that's like a soothin' balm,

And the evenin's, with their starlight, all are wooin' me to calm;

The sunbeams in the daytime sprinkle hill and vale

and tree,

And a world that's filled with sunlight is good enough for me."

"They say," said Uncle Abel, "that Elysium is desired, That it's streets are ruther takin', and its scenes are

much admired;

And I ain't disputin' of 'em, nor the things that they have said

'Bout the glad departed spirits, but it happens I ain't

dead;

I'm livin' in this vale of life, and smellin', as I go,

The flowers that are a-smilin' from their places here below,

And I cannot say that I desire a 'late deceased' to be, For a world that's filled with sunlight is good enough

for me."

"A king may have his jewels rare," said Uncle Abel, "but They're homely 'side the dewdrop in a daisy's mantle shut.

When the fields are bright with blossoms, and each flower wears a gem,

Ther's nothing half so perfect in a queenly diadem. 'Life is sweet!' the songsters twitter, and 'Life's sweet!' the brooklets call,

And of 'life' the squirrels chatter, while His smile is over all,

Till my spirit swells the music and perceives its wings are free,

And a world that's filled with sunlight is good enough for me."

"I don't object," said Uncle, slow, "to thinkin' of the

next,

And frequent go to meetin', where I note the preacher's

text;

But I reckon that it's possible to dwell on future cheer Till we're givin' to discountin' all the joys of now and

here;

And, if ever I reach heaven, which you'll likely hold in

doubt,

I judge that some fine evenin' I shall want to wander out Beyond the portals starred with pearls, this dear old earth to see,

For a world that's filled with sunlight is good enough

for me."

-ALFRED J. WATERHOUSE.

TRUE GREATNESS.

How sad that all great things are sad-
That greatness knows not to be glad.
The boundless, spouseless, fearful sea
Pursues the moon incessantly:

And Cæsar childless lives and dies.
The thunder-torn Sequoia tree

In solemn isolation cries

Sad chorus with the homeless wind
Above the clouds, above his kind,
All sign or sound or sense of love.
How mateless, desolate and drear
His lorn, long seven thousand year!

My comrades, lovers, dare to be
More truly great than Cæsar: he
Who hewed three hundred towns apart,
Yet never truly touched one heart.
The tearful, lorn, complaining sea
The very moon looks down upon,
Then changes as a saber drawn:
The great Sequoia lords as lone

As God upon that fabled throne.

No, no! True greatness, glory, fame,

Is his who claims nor place nor name,
But loves and lives content, complete,
With baby flowers at his feet.

-JOAQUIN MILLER.

STAND FIRM.

Is yours the post of duty-danger, too?
It is the only work a man should do.
Attention! Eyes in front! Now see it through!
Stand firm!

The hardest task-that falterers may shun-
Ah, that is where the laurel's to be won!
How sweet the victor-song at setting sun!
Stand firm!

The prophet-soul-the martyr-singing free
In clearer ether-though we cannot see→
Yet hover near us, bidding you and me
Stand firm!

I think the restless spirits of the brave
Are calling-far above the sodden grave-
"Protect the heritage we died to save-
Stand firm!

In distant futures-when our children try
The deathless battle 'twixt the pit and sky-
May we inspire them with this ringing cry:
"Stand firm!"

-ERNEST NEAL LYON.