artfull fills me aye.

My wealth is common; I possess
No petty province, but the whole;
What's mine alone is mine far less
Than treasure shared by every soul.
Talk not of store,
Millions or more,--
Of values which the purse may hold,--
But this divine!
I own the mine
Whose grains outweigh a planet's gold.

I have a stake in every star,
In every beam that fills the day;
All hearts of men my coffers are,
My ores arterial tides convey;
The fields, the skies,
And sweet replies
Of thought to thought are my gold-dust,--
The oaks, the brooks,
And speaking looks
Of lovers' faith and friendship's trust.

Life's youngest tides joy-brimming flow
For him who lives above all years,
Who all-immortal makes the Now,
And is not ta'en in Time's arrears:
His life's a hymn
The seraphim
Might hark to hear or help to sing,
And to his soul
The boundless whole
Its bounty all doth daily bring.

"All mine is thine," the sky-soul saith;
"The wealth I am, must thou become:
Richer and richer, breath by breath,--
Immortal gain, immortal room!"
And since all his
Mine also is,
Life's gift outruns my fancies far,
And drowns the dream
In larger stream,
As morning drinks the morning-star.

THE BIRDS OF THE PASTURE AND FOREST.

He who has always lived in the city or its suburbs, who has seldom
visited the interior except for purposes of trade, and whose walks have
not often extended beyond those roads which are bordered on each side by
shops and dwelling-houses, may never have heard the birds that form the
subject of this sketch. These are the birds of the pasture and
forest,--those shy, melodious warblers, who sing only in the ancient
haunts of the Dryads, and of those nymphs who waited upon Diana in her
hunting-excursions, but who are now recognized only by the beautiful
plants which, with unseen hands, they rear in the former abodes of the
celestial huntress. These birds have not probably multiplied, like the
familiar birds, with the increase of human population and the extension
of agriculture. They were perhaps as numerous in the days of King Philip
as they are now. Though they do not shun mankind, they keep aloof from
cultivated grounds, living chiefly in the deep wood or on the edge