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LAKE, WITH LAWNY BANKS THAT SLOPE.
Earth may smile like Eden round,
Heaven may open blue,
Gives not back their hue.
“ Stream, that feed'st the lake, there beams
On thee a living sun ;
Wouldst thou doom outrun ?
Hoarsely thus the hurrying wave
Answered, foaming on,
may stay for none.
“ I am fed by those that draw
From depths hid from me
And I am not free.
« Peaceful mission is not mine;
Springs that give me life
Born with inward strife.”
· Turbid lake, thou must flow on,
There is no redress,
Ignorant, I grieved to see
Nothing could be pure,
While it should endure.
I came again, - a river,
Princely, calm, and clear,
Like pure love from fear.
Heaven and earth were showed therein,
The dark source defiled
Sent a noble child.
DEEP, DEEP WITHIN THE OCEAN'S BREAST.
DEEP, deep within the ocean's breast
A coral isle was shrined,
Float with white arms entwined.
The centre of this little isle
Was fixed a stony tree;
Like foliage, quiveringly.
In rigid pride the coral stone
Surveyed its firm estate,
"I floated, too, of late.
« But now no chance or change can come
To me ; mature in form,
I cool no more nor warm.
“ Yes, I have been the sport of waves,
And like this mass around
Blest Neptune! which I've found.
" Come, all of ye Sea-Nymphs, admire
My beautiful repose !"
“Give me the form which grows.
“ I better please myself to watch
Life than a handsome death,
Like something which has breath.
“ So, I 'll just feast my eyes awhile
Till it grows stony too."
How in the ocean's deepest depth
Is human life repeated !
How hardly youth is greeted !
Eyes not down-dropped nor over-bright, but fed
With the clear-pointed flame of chastity,
Pure vestal thoughts in the translucent fane
Of her still spirit, -locks not wide dispread,
Sweet lips, whereon perpetually did reign
Reverèd Isabel, the crown and head,
Of perfect wifehood and pure lowlihead.
Error from crime, - a prudence to withhold,
The laws of marriage charactered in gold
Of subtle-paced counsel in distress,
Winning its way with extreme gentleness
The vexed eddies of its wayward brother,
Of rich fruit-bunches leaning on each other,
(Though all her fairest forms are types of thee, and thou of God in thy great charity) Of such a finished, chastened purity.
O DAY most calm, most bright!
Thy torch doth show the way.
The other days and thou
Till thy release appear.
Man had straight forward gone
The which he doth not fill.
Sundays the pillars are