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no less Than bliss of beauty, passionately Through rush of tears that leaves the landscape dim,—

"Who dares," I say, world be sad ? "

II. NIGHT.

sink

aspirations viewless

As yon cloud-blotted hills: hopes that shone bright

"in such a As planets yester-eve, like them to

I PRESS my cheek against the window-pane,

And gaze abroad into the blank, black space

night

Are gulfed, the impenetrable mists

before:

"O weary world!" I cry, "how dare I think

Thou hast for me one gleam of gladness more ?"

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When the wild turmoil of this weari- O'er the brown karroo, where the

some life, With its scenes of oppression, corruption, and strife

The proud man's frown, and the base man's fear

The scorner's laugh, and the sufferer's tearAnd malice, and meanness, and falsehool and folly,

Dispose me to musing and dark melancholy;

When my bosom is full, and my

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Where sedgy pool, nor bubbling

fount,

Nor tree, nor cloud, nor misty mount, Appears, to refresh the aching eye; But the barren earth and the burning sky, [round, And the blank horizon, round and Spread void of living sight or sound.

And the stars turn bright in the midnight sky,

As I sit apart by the desert stone, Like Elijah at Horeb's cave, alone, A still small voice" comes through the wild

(Like a father consoling his fretful child),

Which banishes bitterness, wrath, and fear,

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And here, while the night-winds Saying - Man is distant, but God is round me sigh, near!

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ad

разо

ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTER.

ONE BY ONE.

ONE by one the sands are flowing,
One by one the moments fall;
Some are coming, some are going,
Do not strive to grasp them all.

One by one thy duties wait thee,

Let thy whole strength go to each,
Let no future dreams elate thee,

Learn thou first what these can
teach.

One by one (bright gifts from Heav-
en)

Joys are sent thee here below;
Take them readily when given,
Ready too to let them go.

What looks to thy dim eyes a stain,
In God's pure light may only be
A scar, brought from some well-won
field,

Where thou wouldst only faint and
yield.

The look, the air, that frets thy sight,
May be a token, that below
The soul has closed in deadly fight
With some infernal fiery foe,
Whose glance would scorch thy smil-
ing grace,

And cast thee shuddering on thy face!

The fall thou darest to despise,

May be the angel's slackened hand
Has suffered it, that he may rise
And take a firmer, surer stand;

One by one thy griefs shall meet Or, trusting less to earthly things,

thee.

Do not fear an armed band;
One will fade as others greet thee;
Shadows passing through the land.

Do not look at life's long sorrow;
See how small each moment's pain,
God will help thee for to-morrow,
So each day begin again.

Every hour that fleets so slowly
Has its task to do or bear;
Luminous the crown, and holy,
When each gem is set with care.

Do not linger with regretting,
Or for passing hours despond;
Nor, the daily toil forgetting,
Look too eagerly beyond.

Hours are golden links, God's token,
Reaching heaven; but one by one
Take them, lest the chain be broken
Ere the pilgrimage be done.

JUDGE NOT.

JUDGE not; the workings of his brain
And of his heart thou canst not

see;

May henceforth learn to use his
wings.

And judge none lost; but wait and

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