Passing away, saith my God, passing away: New grapes on the vine, new figs on the tender spray, Though I tarry, wait for Me, trust Me, watch and pray, Arise, come away, night is past and lo it is day. My Love, My Sister, My Spouse, thou shalt hear me say. Then I answered: Yea. CHRISTINA ROSSETTI. P 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 : "THE UNDiscovered COUNTRY.” 3OULD we but know The land that ends our dark, uncertain 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, The hovering angels' high imagined chorus, Or catch, betimes, with wakeful eyes and clear, 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 : One by one the days that are All to tell their countless sum; Each to dawn and each to die- Waiting, waiting. 'Tis not ours AUGUSTA WEBSTER. |