Chastest forms of beauty round her— Stars that gem the vaulted blue Join with her in silent warning,— “Let thy love be pure and true— Trusting e’en the black-browed storm-cloud, With its leaping lightning-blaze, Rather than the rover’s whisper, Neath the moon’s enchanting gaze.” To James Newton Mathews.[2] Must write a sonnet!—ere the Poet’s rank, With its devouring hopes, I dare to claim— Ere I with them may seek a place or name— Ere I may taste Castalia’s fount, where drank The bards of eld, or find the flowery bank Of clear Penneus, flashing back the flame Of sunset fires. Thro’ moorlands, low and dank, Alone, must grope, unlit by torch of fame. Tho’ Poesy should stir my soul to song That flowed like liquid tenderness along, Or, wild and glad as leaping forest rills— Tho’ Nature’s music thro’ my being thrills And Imagery, with all her fairy throng, My dreamy world of thought and vision fills,— Alas! I’m doomed—this stanza is a line too long. [2] “You must write a Sonnet to gain a Poet’s diploma.”—J. N. M. The Great Hereafter. Will the wrongs of life be righted, Fruited there the hopes here blighted, In the great hereafter? Will the darkened lives be lighted And dissevered souls united In the great hereafter? Will this wearing, wild commotion Sink to rest and sweet emotion Calm all strife hereafter? Will love’s slighted, fond devotion Reach beyond life’s tossing ocean To the great hereafter? Will the vows here lightly broken With repentant tears be spoken In the great hereafter? The wounded one accept the token Of the heart’s remorse unspoken In the great hereafter? Gladly from its idols turning Will the soul forget its yearning In the great hereafter? Thro’ a quickened sense discerning That the labors we’ve been spurning Keep love’s holy incense burning In the great hereafter? Shall we find that hopes deceiving Helped us on to grand achieving In the great hereafter? And be blest with glad receiving What is now but faith, believing In the great hereafter? Will the soul that’s drunk the vial Of a bitter self-denial Feel the loss hereafter? Or, thro’ sacrifice and trial, Will it triumph o’er Belial, In the great hereafter? Will the bands by dogmas riven Scathed and scarred by anger levin, Make a peaceful, joyous Heaven In the great hereafter? For the good for which they’ve striven Will their errors be forgiven In the great hereafter? There, with pomp, his work resuming Will the bigot, still presuming, God’s prerogative assuming In the great hereafter, Sit as judge, his brother dooming, And with creed-lit torch reluming Fires of torture “unconsuming,” Through the great hereafter?