USH off the boat, Quit, quit the shore, The stars will guide us back : O gathering cloud, O wide, wide sea, O waves that keep no track! On through the pines ! The pillared woods, Where silence breathes sweet breath : O labyrinth, O sunless gloom, The other side of death! "THE UNDISCOVERED COUNTRY.” OULD we but know The land that ends our dark, uncer tain travel, Where lie those happier hills and meadows low, Ah, if beyond the spirit's inmost cavil, Aught of that country could we surely know, Might we but hear The hovering angels' high imagined chorus, Or catch, betimes, with wakeful eyes and clear, One radiant vista of the realm before us, With one rapt moment given to see and hear, Were we quite sure To find the peerless friend who left us lonely, EDMUND CLARENCE STEDMAN. NOT YET. OT yet, not yet, the light; Like moles, we blindly toil. The sun, and all things fair, We reach through the dark soil. BEATRIX TOLLEMACHE. BY-AND-BY. AITING, waiting. 'Tis so far To the day that is to come : All to tell their countless sum; Each to dawn and each to die- Waiting, waiting. 'Tis not ours AUGUSTA WEBSTER. AFTER. LITTLE time for laughter, A little time to kiss and cling, A little while for scheming A little while 'twas given To me to have thy love; Now, like a ghost, alone I move About a ruined heaven. A little time for speaking, Things sweet to say and hear; A time to seek, and find thee near, Then no more any seeking. |