morning's sheen,
Making us awhile pure-hearted
And our sky serene.

Many a pleasure from the real
Hath our manly prime,
Though the mystic light is shaded,
And the rosy dreams have faded;
For our strengthen'd spirits see all
Things matured by Time,
Growing out of the ideal
Unto truth sublime;

Blossom unto fruitage golden,
Hope to certainty;
All things by divine transition
Keeping pace with life's ambition,
New joys springing from the olden
As we pass them by
Climbing still, by faith upholden,
Onward to the sky.

Many a pleasant recollection
Hath the heart of Age,
That life's tide hath staunchly breasted,
Wrought, achieved and nobly rested,
Musing with calm retrospection
Their past pilgrimage;
Many a sweet and wise reflection
Hath the heart of Age;

Looking forward, dreaming ever
Of the Better Land;
Waiting for the promised glory,
That shall bind their temples hoary
With a brightness fading never
On that holy strand,
Crowning life's devout Endeavour
With a bounteous hand.

SORROW.

Through the Earth a Spirit goeth
Onward still from morn till night,
Silent as the Time-stream floweth
Out of darkness into light.

And her heart is very tender,
Full of love and kindliness,
Yearning evermore to render
Goodness fuller, error less.

Through the Earth the spirit wendeth,
And full many a little child
With light heart her course attendeth,
By her gentle eyes beguiled;

Turning to her fond embraces,
Playing round her as she goes,
With no shade on their glad faces
Deeper than the budding rose.

A maiden dreaming of her lover
Like a star amid the night,
Felt the spirit bend above her,
In between her and the light;

And she quivered back in terror
From the spirit's offered kiss;
Ah! how often, thus, doth error
Backward fright our souls from bliss!

Then the spirit "Ah! thou dearest,
Wilt thou close thy heart from me?
Through the shadow that thou fearest
Heaven's own light will shine on thee.

"Like the streams that most refresh us
In the desert parch'd and drear,
Sorrow renders love more precious,
Makes the cherish'd one more dear."

On--the spirit circled gently,
Kindly round a Poet's heart,
Gazing through the veil intently
After life's diviner part;

And the poet bent to meet her,