Where'er a human heart doth wear

Joy's myrtle-wreath or sorrow's gyves,
Where'er a human spirit strives

After a life more true and fair,

There is the true man's birth-place grand,
His is a world-wide fatherland!

Where'er a single slave doth pine,
Where'er one man may help another, —

Thank God for such a birthright, brother,

―

That spot of earth is thine and mine!
There is the true man's birth-place grand,

His is a world-wide fatherland!

A PARABLE.

WORN and footsore was the Prophet,

When he gained the holy hill; "God has left the earth," he murmured, "Here his presence lingers still.

"God of all the olden prophets,

Wilt thou speak with men no more? Have I not as truly served thee,

As thy chosen ones of yore?

"Hear me, guider of my fathers,
Lo! a humble heart is mine;
By thy mercy I beseech thee,
Grant thy servant but a sign!"

Bowing then his head, he listened

For an answer to his prayer;
No loud burst of thunder followed,
Not a murmur stirred the air:

But the tuft of moss before him
Opened, while he waited yet,
And, from out the rock's hard bosom,
Sprang a tender violet.

"God! I thank thee," said the Prophet; "Hard of heart and blind was I,

Looking to the holy mountain
For the gift of prophecy.

"Still thou speakest with thy children
Freely as in eld sublime;
Humbleness, and love, and patience
Still give empire over time.

“Had I trusted in my nature, And had faith in lowly things,

1842.

Thou thyself wouldst then have sought me,
And set free my spirit's wings.

"But I looked for signs and wonders,

That o'er men should give me sway,
Thirsting to be more than mortal,
I was even less than clay.

"In her hand she held a flower,

Like to this as like may be,

Which, beside my very threshold,

She had plucked and brought to me."

FORGETFULNESS.

THERE is a haven of sure rest

From the loud world's bewildering stress:

As a bird dreaming on her nest,

As dew hid in a rose's breast,

As Hesper in the glowing West;
So the heart sleeps

In thy calm deeps,
Serene Forgetfulness!