The magic circle of the world I now have stood within, Yet I turn from its frivolity, I tremble at its sin. And Knowledge! my long cherished hope, The object of my love, She still eludes my eager quest, Still soars my grasp above; I add from her bright treasury New jewels to my store, Yet miserable, I murmur That I cannot grasp in more, Before me seem exhaustless heaps Of mental riches piled, Yet still, in learning’s brightest gifts, I feel myself a child. Oh foolish, oh repining heart, Thus willfully to cast Vain wishes to the Future, Fond longings to the Past! Panting to overleap the bounds Of childhood’s simple track, Anxious to ’scape from woman’s cares And trace the journey back; Should I not rather be content To pass from youth to age Striving to do my appointed work In life’s short pilgrimage? Then let me school my rebel heart, And calm my fancies wild, And be in meek, submissive love Indeed a little child. * * * * * =A NIGHT IN THE DISSECTING-ROOM.= =BY MRS. LOUISE PIATT.= Fatherly, motherly, Sisterly, brotherly Feelings had changed: Love by harsh evidence Thrown from its eminence, Even God’s providence Seeming estranged. _Bridge of Sighs._