Whether she scorned him to the last
With words flung to and fro,

Or clung to him when hope was past,
None will ever know:

Whether he helped or hindered her,

Threw up his life, or lost it well, The troubled sea, for all its stir,

Finds no voice to tell.

Only watchers by the dying

Have thought they heard one pray Wordless, urgent; and replying,

One seem to say him nay:

And watchers by the dead have heard
A windy swell from miles away,
With sobs and screams, but not a word
Distinct for them to say:

And watchers out at sea have caught

Glimpse of a pale gleam here or there, Come and gone as quick as thought,

Which might be hand or hair.

Heavage

RALPH WALDO EMERSON

Beside the ocean, wandering on the shore,
I seek no measure of the infinite sea;
Beneath the solemn stars that speak to me

I

may not care to reason out their lore;

Among the mountains, whose bright summits o'er

The flush of morning brightens, there may be
Only a sense of might and mystery;
And yet, a thrill of infinite life they pour
Through all my being, and uplift me high

Above my little self and weary days.
So in thy presence, Emerson, I hear
A sea-voice sounding 'neath a boundless sky,

While mountainous thoughts tower o'er life's common ways,
And in thy sky the stars of truth appear.

Ah, happy day, refuse to go!
Hang in the heavens forever so!
Forever in mid-afternoon,

Ah, happy day of happy June!
Pour out thy sunshine on the hill,
The piny wood with perfume fill,
And breathe across the singing sea
Land-scented breezes, that shall be
Sweet as the gardens that they pass,
Where children tumble in the grass!

Ah, happy day, refuse to go!
Hang in the heavens forever so!
And long not for thy blushing rest
In the soft bosom of the west,
But bid gray evening get her back
With all the stars upon her track!
Forget the dark, forget the dew,
The mystery of the midnight blue,
And only spread thy wide warm wings
While summer her enchantment flings!

Ah, happy day, refuse to go!
Hang in the heavens forever so!
Forever let thy tender mist

Lie like dissolving amethyst

Deep in the distant dales, and shed
Thy mellow glory overhead!

Yet wilt thou wander,-call the thrush,
And have the wilds and waters hush
To hear his passion-broken tune,

Ah, happy day of happy June!

MEASURE FOR MEASURE.

What love do I bring you? The earth,
Full of love, were far lighter;
The great hollow sky, full of love,
Something slighter.

Earth full and heaven full were less
Than the full measure given;
Nay, say a heart full,-the heart
Holds earth and heaven!

MOTHER MINE.

When by the ruddy fire I spelled
In one old volume and another,
Those ballads haunted by fair women,
One of them always seemed my mother.

In storied song she dwelt, where dwell Strange things and sweet of eld and eerie, The foam of Binnorie's bonny mill-dams, The bowing birks, the wells o' Wearie.

All the Queen's Maries she did know,
The eldritch knight, the sisters seven,
The lad that lay upon the Lomonds

And saw the perch play in Lochleven.

Burd Helen had those great gray eyes,
Their rays from shadowy lashes flinging;
That smile the winsome bride of Yarrow
Before her tears were set to singing.

That mouth was just the mouth that kissed
Sir Cradocke under the green wildwood;
Fair Rosamond was tall as she was

In those fixed fancies of my childhood.

And when she sang-ah, when she sang! Birds are less sweet, and flutes not clearer

In ancient halls I saw the minstrel,

And shapes long dead arose to hear her!

Darlings of song I've heard since then,

But no such voice as hers was, swelling

Like bell-notes on the winds of morning,
All angelhood about it dwelling.

No more within those regions dim

Of rich romance my thoughts would place her,

Her life itself is such a poem

She does not need old names to grace her.

Long years have fled, but left her charm

Smiling to see that years are fleeter,

Those ballads are as sweet as ever,

But she is infinitely sweeter.