Stretching his arms out toward his native vale

As if in mute, unspeakable farewell,

'Tis

And so went down. - 'T is something, if at

last,

Though only for a flash, a man may see Clear-eyed the future as he sees the past, From doubt, or fear, or hope's illusion free.

"QUEM METUI MORITURA?"

ÆNEID, IV. 604.

HAT need have I to fear SO

soon to die?

Let me work on, not watch and wait in dread :

What will it matter, when that I am

dead,

That they bore hate or love who near me

lie?

'T is but a lifetime, and the end is nigh At best or worst. Let me lift up my head

And firmly, as with inner courage, tread Mine own appointed way, on mandates high.

Pain could but bring, from all its evil store, The close of pain: hate's venom could

but kill;

110 Quem Metui Moritura?"

Repulse, defeat, desertion, could no more. Let me have lived my life, not cowered

A MORNING THOUGHT.

HAT if some morning, when the stars were paling,

And the dawn whitened, and

the East was clear,

Strange peace and rest fell on me from

the presence

Of a benignant Spirit standing near :

And I should tell him, as he stood beside

me,

"This is our Earth most friendly

Earth, and fair;

Daily its sea and shore through sun and shadow

Faithful it turns, robed in its azure air :

"There is blest living here, loving and

serving,

And quest of truth, and serene friendships dear;

112

A Morning Thought

But stay not, Spirit!

Earth has one

destroyer

His name is Death: flee, lest he find thee here!"

And what if then, while the still morning brightened,

And freshened in the elm the Summer's

breath,

Should gravely smile on me the gentle

angel

And take my hand and say, “My name

is Death."