As he giveth to all to drink,

Thus or thus they are and think.
He giveth little or giveth much,

To make them several or such.

With one drop sheds form and feature,
With the second a special nature,

The third adds heat's indulgent spark,
The fourth gives light which eats the dark.
In the fifth drop himself he flings,
And conscious Law is King of Kings.
Pleaseth him the Eternal Child

To play his sweet will, glad and wild ;
As the bee through the garden ranges,
From world to world the godhead changes;
As the sheep go feeding through the waste,
From form to form he maketh haste.

This vault which glows immense with light
Is the inn where he lodges for a night.
What recks such Traveller if the bowers
Which bloom and fade like summer flowers,

A bunch of fragrant lilies be,

Or the stars of eternity?

Alike to him the better, the worse,

The glowing angel, the outcast corse.

Thou metest him by centuries,

And lo! he passes like the breeze;

Thou seek'st in globe and galaxy,

He hides in pure transparency;

Thou askest in fountains and in fires,
He is the essence that inquires.

He is the axis of the star;

He is the sparkle of the spar;

He is the heart of every creature;

He is the meaning of each feature ;

And his mind is the sky

Than all it holds more deep, more high.'

MONADNOC.

THOUSAND minstrels woke within me,

'Our music's in the hills;'

Gayest pictures rose to win me,

Leopard-coloured rills.

Up!—If thou knew'st who calls

To twilight parks of beech and pine,

High over the river intervals,

Above the ploughman's highest line,

Over the owner's farthest walls ;

Up! where the airy citadel

O'erlooks the purging landscape's swell.

Let not unto the stones the day

Her lily and rose, her sea and land display ;

Read the celestial sign!

Lo! the South answers to the North ;

Bookworm, break this sloth urbane ;

A greater Spirit bids thee forth,

Than the grey dreams which thee detain.

E

Mark how the climbing Oreads
Beckon thee to their arcades ;

Youth, for a moment free as they,
Teach thy feet to feel the ground,
Ere yet arrive the wintry day
When Time thy feet has bound.

Accept the bounty of thy birth;

Taste the lordship of the earth.

I heard and I obeyed,

Assured that he who pressed the claim,

Well-known, but loving not a name,
Was not to be gainsaid.

Ere yet the summoning voice was still,

I turned to Cheshire's haughty hill.

From the fixed cone the cloud-rack flowed

Like ample banner flung abroad

Round about, a hundred miles,

With invitation to the sea, and to the bordering isles.

In his own loom's garment drest,

By his own bounty blest,

Fast abides this constant giver,
Pouring many a cheerful river;

To far eyes, an ærial isle,

Unploughed, which finer spirits pile,

Which morn and crimson evening paint

For bard, for lover, and for saint;

The country's core,

Inspirer, prophet evermore,

Pillar which God aloft had set

So that men might it not forget,
It should be their life's ornament,
And mix itself with each event;
Their calendar and dial,

Barometer, and chemic phial,
Garden of berries, perch of birds,
Pasture of pool-haunting herds,
Graced by each change of sum untold,
Earth-baking heat, stone-cleaving cold.

The Titan minds his sky-affairs,

Rich rents and wide alliance shares ;
Mysteries of colour daily laid

By the great sun in light and shade,

And sweet varieties of chance,

And the mystic seasons' dance,

And thief-like step of liberal hours

Which thawed the snow drift into flowers.

O wondrous craft of plant and stone

By eldest science done and shown!