But, like some tired child at even, On thy mother Nature's breast, Thou, methinks, art vainly seeking Truth, and peace, and rest.

ΤΟ

O'er that mother's rugged features Thou art throwing Fancy's veil, Light and soft as woven moonbeams, Beautiful and frail !

O'er the rough chart of Existence,
Rocks of sin and wastes of woe,
Soft airs breathe, and green leaves
' tremble,

And cool fountains flow.

And to thee an answer cometh

From the earth and from the sky,
And to thee the hills and waters
And the stars reply.

But a soul-sufficing answer
Hath no outward origin;

More than Nature's many voices
May be heard within.

Even as the great Augustine

Questioned earth and sea and sky,40
And the dusty tomes of learning
And old poesy.

But his earnest spirit needed
More than outward Nature taught,
More than blest the poet's vision
Or the sage's thought.

Only in the gathered silence

Of a calm and waiting frame
Light and wisdom as from Heaven
To the seeker came.

Not to ease and aimless quiet
Doth that inward answer tend,
But to works of love and duty
As our being's end, -

Not to idle dreams and trances,
Length of face, and solemn tone,
But to Faith, in daily striving
And performance shown.
Earnest toil and strong endeavor
Of a spirit which within
Wrestles with familiar evil
And besetting sin;

So haply these, my simple lays
Of homely toil, may serve to show
The orchard bloom and tasselled
maize

That skirt and gladden duty's ways, The unsung beauty hid life's common things below.

Haply from them the toiler, bent Above his forge or plough, may gain

A manlier spirit of content,

And feel that life is wisest spent Where the strong working hand makes strong the working brain.

The doom which to the guilty pair

Without the walls of Eden came, Transforming sinless ease to care And rugged toil, no more shall bear The burden of old crime, or mark of primal shame.

A blessing now, a curse no more; Since He, whose name we breathe

with awe,

The coarse mechanic vesture wore, A poor man toiling with the poor, In labor, as in prayer, fulfilling the same law.

THE SHIP-BUILDERS.

THE sky is ruddy in the east,
The earth is gray below,
And, spectral in the river-mist,

The ship's white timbers show.
Then let the sounds of measured stroke
And grating saw begin;