So the soul, that drop, that ray Of the clear fountain of eternal day, Could it within the human flower be seen, Remembering still its former height, Shuns the sweet leaves and blossoms green. And recollecting its own light, Does in its pure and circling thoughts express The greater heaven in an heaven less. In how coy a figure wound, Every way it turns away; So the world excluding round, Yet receiving in the day; Dark beneath but bright above, Here disdaining, there in love: How loose and easy hence to go; How girt and ready to ascend; Moving but on a point below, It all about does upwards bend, Such did the manna’s sacred _dew_ distil, White and entire although congeal’d and chill; Congeal’d on earth; but does dissolving run Into the glories of the Almighty sun. _Andrew Marvell._ The starlight _dews_ All silently their tears of love instil, Weeping themselves away, till they infuse, Deep into nature’s breast, the spirit of her hues. _Byron._ Within these leaves the holy _dew_ That falls from heaven, hath won anew A glory--in declining. _Miss Barrett._ Those verdant hills now bathed in morning _dews_, Whose every drop outvies Golconda’s gem. Lo! one hangs glittering on yon blade of grass: Spurn not that lucid trembler, but admire Its glorious hues, and trace them to their source; The nice arrangement of its particles. Draw nigh;--through microscopic lens inspect That single drop’s profound elaborateness-- Most delicate, and wonderfully wrought. Is it a work of chance? It is a world Replete with life, and love, and feud. Its crowds Dart swift from verge to verge (their ocean depths.) How nervous and minute each supple fin! What made that film-like hinge on which it plays? What hand, what eye, save God’s could fashion it? _T. L. Merritt._ _Dews_ of the morning! wherefore were ye given? --To shine on earth, then rise to heaven. _J. Montgomery._