A charmed life old goodness hath; the tares may perish, but the grain is not for death.

The age is dull and mean. Men creep, Not walk; with blood too pale and tame To pay the debt they owe to shame; Buy cheap, sell dear; eat. drink, and sleep down-pillowed, deaf to moaning want; Pay tithes for soul-insurance; keep Six days to Mammon, one to Cant

Leaning on Him, make with reverent meekness His own thy will.

Low stir of leaves and dip of oars And lapsing waves on quiet shores.

Round the boles of the pine-wood the ground-laurel creeps, Unkissed of the sunshine, unbaptized of showers, With buds scarcely swelled, which should burst into flowers!

What moistens the lip and what brightens the eye? What calls back the past like the rich pumpkin pie?

Through the open door A drowsy smell of flowers -grey heliotrope And white sweet clover, and shy mignonette Comes fairly in, and silent chorus leads To the pervading symphony of Peace.