ON THE SHORE.

HE angry sunset fades from out the west,
A glimmering greyness creeps along the

sea;

Wild waves be hushed and moan into your

rest,

Soon will all earth be sleeping, why not ye?

Far off the heavens deaden o'er with sleep,
The purple twilight darkens on the hill;
Why will ye only ever wake and weep?
I weary of your sighing, oh! be stil.

But ever, ever, moan ye by the shore,

While all your trouble surges in my breast;
Oh, waves of trouble surge in me no more,
Or be but still awhile and let me rest.

AUGUSTA WEBSTER.

HE waters are rising and flowing

Over the weedy stone

Over it, over it going;

It is never gone.

Over it joys go sweeping,

'Tis there the ancient pain:

Yea, drowned in waves and waves of weeping,

It will rise again.

GEORGE MACDONALD.

LIFE, O death, O world, O time,
O grave, where all things flow,
'Tis yours to make our lot sublime
With your great weight of woe.

Though sharpest anguish hearts may wring,
Though bosoms torn may be,

Yet suffering is a holy thing;

Without it what were we?

RICHARD CHENEVIX TRENCH.

OASIS.

ET them go by the heats, the doubts, the

strife;

--

I can sit here and care not for them now,

Dreaming beside the glimmering wave of life

Once more,-I know not how.

There is a murmur in my heart, I hear
Faint, O so faint, some air I used to sing;

It stirs my sense; and odours dim and dear
The meadow-breezes bring.

Just this way did the quiet twilights fade
Over the fields and happy homes of men,

While one bird sang as now, piercing the shade,
Long since,-I know not when.

EDWARD DOWDEN.

THE EPICUREAN.

OW gently, beautiful, and calm,
The quiet river murmurs by;

How soft the light, how full of balm,
The breeze that soothes the dark'ning sky!

In every clime, in every state,

We may be happy if we will;

Man wrestles against iron fate,

And then complains of pain and ill.

The flowers, the beasts, the very heaven,
Calmly their destined paths pursue ;

All take the pleasures that are given,
We only find them short and few.

Oh that mankind, alive to truth,

Would cease a hopeless war to wage ; Would reap in youth the joys of youth,— In age the peacefulness of age!