Of sunset breezes: "O delicious boon,"

I cried, "of quiet! wise is Nature's plan, Who, in her realm, as in the soul of man, Alternates storm with calm, and the loud noon

With dewy evening's soft and sacred lull:

Happy the heart that keeps its twilight hour,
And, in the depths of heavenly peace reclined,
Loves to commune with thoughts of tender
power;

Thoughts that ascend, like angels beautiful,
A shining Jacob's ladder of the mind."

1855.

Paul Hamilton Hayne.

HOW MY SONG OF HER BEGAN

GOD made my lady lovely to behold;

Above the painter's dream he set her face, And wrought her body in divinest grace, He touch'd the brown hair with a sense of gold,

And in the perfect form He did enfold

What was alone as perfect, the sweet heart; Knowledge most rare to her He did impart, And fill'd with love and worship all her days.

And then God thought Him how it would be well

To give her music, and to Love He said,

Bring thou some minstrel now that he may tell How fair and sweet a thing my hands have made."

Then at Love's call I came, bow'd down

my head,

And at His will my lyre grew audible.

1875.

Philip Bourke Marston.

EPIGRAMS