Day doth come to us as gay
As to a king of widest sway,
In daisy-whiten'd, king-cup brighten'd
Fields by flowing waterfalls.

Some fair buds may outlive blightings,
Some sweet hopes may outlive sorrow;
After days of wrongs and slightings
There may break a happy morrow.
We may have no earthly love;
But God's love-tokens from above
Here may meet us, here may greet us,
In the fields by waterfalls.

William Barnes.

The Rev. W. Barnes, B.D., is a native of Rushpay, Dorset. He began life as a schoolmaster, and became rector of Winterborne Came, Dorchester, 1862. Mr. Barnes is author of three volumes of Poems of Rural Life, in the Dorsetshire dialect. (The selections here reprinted are given in ordinary English.)

CLEAR AND COOL.

(From "The Water-Babies.")

CLEAR and cool, clear and cool,
By laughing shallow and dreaming pool;
Cool and clear, cool and clear,
By shining shingle and foaming weir;
Under the crag where the ouzel sings,
And the ivied wall where the church-bell rings,
Undefiled, for the undefiled;

Play by me, bathe in me, mother and child !

Dank and foul, dank and foul,
By the smoky town in its murky cowl;
Foul and dank, foul and dank,
By wharf, and sewer, and slimy bank;
Darker and darker the farther I go,
Baser and baser the richer I grow;

Who dare sport with the sin-defiled?

Shrink from me, turn from me, mother and child!

Strong and free, strong and free;
The flood-gates are open, away to the sea.
Free and strong, free and strong,
Cleansing my streams as I hurry along
To the golden sands and the leaping bar,
And the taintless tide that awaits me afar,
As I lose myself in the infinite main,

Like a soul that has sinned and is pardoned again. Undefiled, for the undefiled;

Play by me, bathe in me, mother and child!

Charles Kingsley: 1819-1875.

(See page 32.)

THE STREAMLET.

I SAW a little streamlet flow
Along a peaceful vale,

A thread of silver, soft and slow,
It wandered down the dale;
Just to do good it seemed to move,
Directed by the hand of love.

The valley smiled in living green;
A tree, which near it gave
From noontide heat a friendly screen,
Drank from its limpid1 wave,
The swallow brushed it with her wing,
And followed its meandering."

But not alone to plant and bird
That little stream was known,
Its gentle murmur far was heard-
A friend's familiar tone!
It glided by the cotter's door,3

It blessed the labour of the poor.

1 limpid-clear.

2 meandering-winding about: from Meander, the name a river in Phrygia, noted for its tortuous course.

3 cotter-cottager.

And would that I could thus be found,
While travelling life's brief way,
An humble friend to all around,
Where'er my footsteps stray;

Like that pure stream, with tranquil breast,
Like it, still blessing, and still blest.

Mary Anne Stodart.

An American poetess and writer on education, particularly as regards the training of girls. Author of Every-day Duties, Hints on Reading, and Female Writers.

THE FOUNTAIN.

INTO the sunshine,
Full of the light,
Leaping and flashing,
From morn till night!

Into the moonlight,
Whiter than snow,
Waving so flower-like

When the winds blow!

Into the starlight,

Rushing in spray,
Happy at midnight,

Happy by day!

Ever in motion,

Blithesome and cheery,
Still climbing heavenward,

Never aweary;

Glad of all weathers,

Still seeming best,
Upward or downward
Motion thy rest;

Full of a nature
Nothing can tame,
Changed every moment,
Ever the same;

Ceaseless aspiring,

Ceaseless content,

Darkness or sunshine
Thy element;

Glorious fountain!

Let my heart be

Fresh, changeful, constant,

Upward like thee!

James Russell Lowell: born, 1819.

(See page 22.)

SEA-SIDE THOUGHTS.

BEAUTIFUL, sublime, and glorious,
Mild, majestic, foaming, free,—

Over time itself victorious,

Emblem of Eternity!

Sun and moon and stars shine o'er thee,
See thy surface ebb and flow,

Yet attempt not to explore thee

In thy soundless depths below.

Whether morning splendours steep thee
With the rainbow's glowing grace,
Tempests rouse, or navies sweep thee,
'Tis but for a moment's space.

Earth-her valleys and her mountains,
Mortal man's behest obey:

Thy unfathomable fountains

Scoff his search and scorn his sway.

Such art thou, stupendous Ocean!
But if overwhelm'd by thee,

Can we think, without emotion,
What must thy Creator be!

Bernard Barton: 1784-1849.

(See page 54.)

OCEAN-VOICES.

THE wild waves madly dash and roar,
In thunder-throbs upon the beach;
Their broad white hands upon the shore
They struggle evermore to reach.

Up through the cavernous rocks amain,1

With short, hoarse growl, they plunge and leap, Like an arm'd host, again and again

Battering some castellated steep.2

Great pulses of the ocean heart,
Beating from out immensity!
What mystic news would ye impart
From the great spirit of the sea?

Ever, in still increasing force,

Earnest as cries of love or hate,
Your large and eloquent discourse
Is mighty as the march of fate.

I sit alone on the glowing sand,

Fill'd with the music of your speech,

And only half may understand

The wondrous love that ye would teach.

The sea-weed and the shells are wise,

And versed in your broad Sanscrit tongue ; 3
The rocks need not our ears and eyes
To comprehend the under-song.

The ocean and the shore are one;

The rocks and trees that hang above,

The birds and insects in the sun,

Are link'd in one strong tie of love.

1 amain-violently, furiously.

2 castellated steep-a hill fortified as by a castle.

3 Sanscrit tongue-ancient language: sometimes held to be the oldest of all languages. (Sanscrit was the language of Northern India in remote times, and many other languages are derived from or allied to it.)