Yet no one claimed-as oft, in dewy glades,
The peering primrose, like a sudden gladness,
Gleams on the soul, yet unregarded fades;
The joy is ours, but all its own the sadness.

'Tis vain to say—her worst of grief is only
The common lot, which all the world have known;
To her 'tis more, because her heart is lonely,
And yet she hath no strength to stand alone,—
Once she had playmates, fancies of her own,
And she did love them.

They are passed away

As fairies vanish at the break of day;
And like a sceptre of an age departed,

Or unsphered angel wofully astray,
She glides along-the solitary-hearted.

HARTLEY Coleridge.

WON

Of Those who Walk Alone

WOMEN there are on earth, most sweet and high,
Who lose their own, and walk bereft and lonely,

Loving that one lost heart until they die,

Loving it only.

And so they never see beside them grow

Children, whose coming is like breath of flowers;
Consoled by subtler loves the angels know
Through childless hours.

Good deeds they do they comfort and they bless
In duties others put off till the morrow;

Their look is balm, their touch is tenderness
To all in sorrow.

OF THOSE WHO WALK ALONE

Betimes the world smiles at them, as 'twere shame,
This maiden guise, long after youth's departed;
But in God's Book they bear another name—
'The faithful-hearted.'

Faithful in life, and faithful unto death,

Such souls, in sooth, illume with lustre splendid That glimpsed, glad land wherein, the Vision saith, Earth's wrongs are ended.

RICHARD BURTON.

APOLLO

Derrière les ennuis et les vastes chagrins
Qui chargent de leurs poids l'existence brumeuse
Heureux celui qui peut d'une aile vigoureuse
S'élancer vers les champs lumineux et sereins!

Celui dont les pensers, comme des alouettes,
Vers les cieux le matin prennent un libre essor,
Qui plane sur la vie et comprend sans effort
Le langage des fleurs et des choses muettes.

When the sword glitters o'er the judge's head,
And fear has coward churchmen silenced,
Then is the poet's time; 'tis then he draws
And single fights forsaken virtue's cause:
Sings still of ancient rights and better times,
Seeks suffering good, arraigns successful crimes.

If thou indeed derive thy light from Heaven,
Then, to the measure of that heaven born light,
Shine, Poet, in thy place, and be content!
The stars pre-eminent in magnitude,

And they that from the zenith dart their beams,
(Visible though they be to half the Earth,

Though half a sphere be conscious of their brightness)

Are yet of no diviner origin,

No purer essence, than the one that burns,

Like an untended watch-fire, on the ridge

Of some dark mountain; or than those which seem
Humbly to hang, like twinkling winter lamps,

Among the branches of the leafless trees.