THE FOUNTAIN. We have short time to stay, as you; As quick a growth to meet decay As you or any thing: We die, As your hours do; and dry Away Like the summer's rain, Or as the pearls of morning dew, THE FOUNTAIN. JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL. INTO the sunshine, Full of the light, Leaping and flashing Into the moonlight, Whiter than snow, When the winds blow! Into the starlight, Rushing in spray, Happy at midnight, Happy by day! 325 THE NOBLE NATURE. 327 THE NOBLE NATURE. B. JONSON. It is not growing like a tree In bulk, doth make man better be; Is fairer far in May, Although it fall and die that night – In small proportions we just beauty see; LIFE'S "GOOD-MORNING." ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD. LIFE! we've been long together, Through pleasant and through cloudy weather; 'Tis hard to part when friends are dear; Perhaps 'twill cost a sigh, a tear; Then steal away, give little warning, Choose thine own time; Say not Good-Night, but in some brighter clime Bid me Good-Morning. 328 HASTE NOT! REST NOT! HASTE NOT! REST NOT! GOETHE. (Anonymous Translation.) WITHOUT haste! without rest! Storm or sunshine, guard it well! Heed not flowers that round thee bloom, Bear it onward to the tomb! Haste not! Let no thoughtless deed Mar for aye the spirit's speed! Ponder well, and know the right, Rest not! Life is sweeping by, When these forms have passed away. Haste not! rest not! calmly wait; Meekly bear the storms of fate! Duty be thy polar guide; Do the right whate'er betide! Haste not! rest not! conflicts past, God shall crown thy work at last. BRINGING OUR SHEAVES WITH US. 329 BRINGING OUR SHEAVES WITH US. ELIZABETH AKERS. THE time for toil has passed, and night has come, Last of the laborers, thy feet I gain, Lord of the harvest! and my spirit grieves That I am burdened, not so much with grain, As with a heaviness of heart and brain; Master, behold my sheaves! Few, light, and worthless, - yet their trifling weight Through all my frame a weary aching leaves; Full well I know I have more tares than wheat — Brambles and flowers, dry stalks and withered leaves; Wherefore I blush and weep, as at thy feet I know these blossoms, clustering heavily, |