Here its calm strength her hillside rears From heaving slopes of clover; Here still the pewit pipes and flits Within his furzy cover. Here hums the wild-bee in the thyme, And youth comes back upon the breeze, FRANCIS TURNER PALGRAVE. } FLOWERS WITHOUT FRUIT. RUNE thou thy words, the thoughts control That o'er thee swell and throng; They will condense within thy soul, And change to purpose strong. But he who lets his feelings run In soft luxurious flow, Shrinks when hard service must be done, And faints at every woe. Faith's meanest deed more favour bears, JOHN HENRY NEWMAN. PLEASURE AND PAIN. HO can determine the frontier of Pleasure? Where is experience repeated again? Ye who have felt the delirium of passion— To indicate each upon each as it hangs? I would believe not ;-for spirit will lanquish. See the Fakeer as he swings on his iron, See the thin Hermit that starves in the wild; Think ye no pleasures the penance environ, And hope the sole bliss by which pain is beguiled? No! in the kingdom those spirits are reaching, For Pain has its Heaven and Pleasure its Hell! RICHARD, LORD HOUGHTON. THE HIDDEN SELF. KNOW not if a keener smart Can come to finer souls than his Who fain would say: "Behold me, friends, A thing of low and narrow ends, Sordid, not golden as I seem ; "See here the hidden blot of shame, The weak thought that you take for strong, The brain too dull to merit fame, The faint and imitative song ;" But dares not, lest discovery foul Not his name only, but degrade Heights closed but to the soaring soul, Names which scorn trembles to invade ; K |