And here beneath the varying sky, 'Mid meadows, streams, and trees, I place my motley company Reclined in summer ease. In circles set by chance or choice, Custom, or birth, or creed; Yet none so wide but hand or voice May minister at need. To live and let live their intent, And viands interchange, Piquant, and sweet, and succulent, The homely and the strange. Bitters and acids some supply, And some the loving cup, While some exhibit wondrously A zeal for stirring up. Lo, where apart by fount and rock Sit lovers all in pairs; Here grin buffoons, here cynics mock Our follies and our cares. See too the bores, expect no less From any crowd on earth; These teach us patience, we confess, And give them ample berth. Now let us range from group to group, And mingle where we may; Let no one scoff, or scorn to stoop, It is but clay to clay. Here all may gain, and all rejoice Beneath the genial law Proclaimed by Nature's loving voice From Siam to Loch Awe. "Mingle," she cries, "a glance, a tone May play an angel's part, And serve to pulverise the stone Which chills the lonely heart." "Mingle," she cries, "Who loves us best, Society decreed; And inequality the test Of love in every need." Here some are grand in gems and silk, Some grim in ragged grey, Poor parents bring but "mother's milk," And millionaires Tokay. Some as if empty-handed come; Yet with brave sound and show Add to the brilliance and the hum; Life scarce might these forego. And faithful guests will aye believe The poor who nought afford, Welcomed, bring more than they receive, In blessings from the Lord. And surely 'twere a godless roll Whose record should exclude The hearts that feed the hungry soul With spiritual food. The cates that wit and science bring, Beauty, and art, and joy, The arms that toil and tongues that sing Might Homer's lyre employ. My emblem briefly would express The wealth of deed and speech Man brings to man, wherewith to bless All hearts within their reach, So they observe as they approve, The golden rule divine, His sacramental law of Love Who blessed the bread and wine. [Illustration] THE HIPPOCAMPUS, OR SEA-HORSE. Sea minnow this with pony's crest, Just one of Amphitrite's toys, With which her Nereids coax to rest The little stormy Triton boys; In truth, a tiny twisted thing Which cast upon that golden shore The dark-eyed boys to strangers bring Where sang Parthenope of yore. Device befitting sculptured page Quaintly with whiffs of song entwined, Waif from the ebbing tide of age, A Hippocampus of the mind, Which seeks from out the old and new, A happy cento to compile, Whose signs and words around may strew The soothing of a quiet smile.