In the green silence of this sylvan shore How servile seems the city’s ceaseless roar! How vain the restless rivalry for pelf! How low the aim that centers all in self! The penury of Pride--the sordid care Of souls despoiled of poetry and prayer-- Seems in these happy shades to be The comedy of misery. THE GOAL. Sweet scents, sweet sounds, sweet scenes! With all that intervenes In sweeter solemn silences profound,-- Whereinto overflows, In forest, river, rose, Passionless being, beauty without bound. How deep the mind’s repose! The vagrant sea breeze blows With kindred pulses through the fragrant shade; And sod and soul are blent In blest enfranchisement,-- Prefiguring the end for all things made. For life and love, supreme Beyond Isaiah’s dream, Shall bear all being to its blissful goal; The wondrous word is true: “Lo! I make all things new;”-- _The universe is ransomed with the soul_. UNANSWERED. Whither away, ye argosies of Heaven, In solemn state advancing from afar? What mission marshals you? What chivalrous emprise Darkens the glory of the sapphire skies? Say, was your empire’s ancient quiet riven With rumor ominous of distant wrong and war? Or speed ye forth with snowy sails unfurled, And radiant pennons shimmering in the haze, To bring with proper pomp, to his empyreal throne, Your monarch with his bride?--_he loveth her alone_,-- Dear daughter of the Sun, the peerless virgin world, Long cloistered in his bosom’s brightest rays. * * * * * No answer but a deeper shadow cast,-- And lo! the splendid mystery has passed. EASTER ANTICIPATED. Hark! ’tis the Robin, poet-priest, Absolves rude Winter’s wrong: The heart of Nature is released, And soareth out in song. UNDER THE MOON. Beautiful Luna, bride of the night! Sweet is the sheen of thy soft silver light; On castle and cottage in splendor it streams, Blessing the earth with its bountiful beams. Thou cheerest the vigils of shepherd and seer; To sailor and lover alike thou art dear; Forever and ever thy kingdom shall be:-- The heart owns thy sway like the tides of the sea. HEART’S-EASE. The day will not give place to night,-- The darkness pierces like the light; My care prolongs the noontide glare, And makes a desert everywhere. O! what will ease a burning brain, And the weariness that is worse than pain? * * * * * Think of twilight and the dew,-- The stars serenely shining through The tranquil depths of peaceful blue; Muse on the moon’s majestic grace; How worshipful her radiant face In midnight’s solemn loneliness! Nature is silent unto God-- His comforts are exceeding broad.