And the grave and worshipful justice, Upon whose soul be peace! Set his name to the jailer’s warrant For Goody Cole’s release. Then through the night the hoof-beats Went sounding like a flail: And Goody Cole at cock crow Came forth from Ipswich jail. * * * * * THE WORSHIP OF NATURE. THE ocean looketh up to heaven, As ’twere a living thing; The homage of its waves is given In ceaseless worshiping. They kneel upon the sloping sand, As bends the human knee, A beautiful and tireless band, The priesthood of the sea! They pour the glittering treasures out Which in the deep have birth, And chant their awful hymns about The watching hills of earth. The green earth sends its incense up From every mountain-shrine, From every flower and dewy cup That greeteth the sunshine. The mists are lifted from the rills, Like the white wing of prayer; They lean above the ancient hills, As doing homage there. The forest-tops are lowly cast O’er breezy hill and glen, As if a prayerful spirit pass’d On nature as on men. The clouds weep o’er the fallen world, E’en as repentant love; Ere, to the blessed breeze unfurl’d, They fade in light above. The sky is as a temple’s arch, The blue and wavy air Is glorious with the spirit-march Of messengers at prayer. The gentle moon, the kindling sun, The many stars are given, As shrines to burn earth’s incense on The altar-fires of Heaven! * * * * * THE BAREFOOT BOY. BLESSINGS on thee, little man, Barefoot boy, with cheek of tan! With thy turned up pantaloons, And thy merry whistled tunes; With thy red lip, redder still Kissed by strawberries on the hill; With the sunshine on thy face, Through thy torn brim’s jaunty grace! From my heart I give thee joy; I was once a barefoot boy. Prince thou art――the grown-up man, Only is republican. Let the million-dollared ride! Barefoot, trudging at his side, Thou hast more than he can buy, In the reach of ear and eye: Outward sunshine, inward joy, Blessings on the barefoot boy.