THE FOUNTAIN.

INTO the sunshine,

Full of the light,

Leaping and flashing From morn till night!

Into the moonlight,

Whiter than snow,

Waving so flower-like

When the winds blow!

Into the starlight

Rushing in spray,

Glorious fountain!

Let

my heart be

Fresh, changeful, constant,

Upward, like thee!

་

A DIRGE.

POET! lonely is thy bed,

And the turf is overhead,

Cold earth is thy cover; But thy heart hath found release, And it slumbers full of peace 'Neath the rustle of green trees, And the warm hum of the bees

Mid the drowsy clover; Through thy chamber still as death A smooth gurgle wandereth, As the blue stream murmureth

To the blue sky over.

Where thy stainless clay doth lie
Clear and open is the sky,
And the white clouds wander by,
Dreams of summer, silently

Darkening the river;

Thou hearest the clear water run,
And the ripples, every one
Scattering the golden sun,
Through thy silence quiver.

Thou wast full of love and truth,

Of forgivingness and ruth,

Thy great heart with hope and youth
Tided to o'erflowing;

Thou didst dwell in mysteries,

And there lingered on thine eyes
Shadows of serener skies,

Awfully wild memories

That were like foreknowing;

Thou didst remember well and long

Some fragments of thine angel-song,

And strive, through want, and woe, and wrong,

To win the world unto it;