(A Man Speaks.)

Once, a new world, the sunswart marinere, Columbus, promised, and was sore withstood, Ungraced, unhelped, unheard for many a year; But let at last to make his promise good. Promised and promising I go, most dear, To better my dull heart with love's sweet feud, My life with its most reverent hope and fear, And my religion, with fair gratitude. O we must part; the stars for me contend, And all the winds that blow on all the seas. Through wonderful waste places I must wend, And with a promise my sad soul appease. Promise then, promise much of far-off bliss; But--ah, for present joy, give me one kiss.

LOVE.

Who veileth love should first have vanquished fate. She folded up the dream in her deep heart, Her fair full lips were silent on that smart, Thick fringèd eyes did on the grasses wait. What good? one eloquent blush, but one, and straight The meaning of a life was known; for art Is often foiled in playing nature's part, And time holds nothing long inviolate. Earth's buried seed springs up--slowly, or fast: The ring came home, that one in ages past Flung to the keeping of unfathomed seas: And golden apples on the mystic trees Were sought and found, and borne away at last, Though watched of the divine Hesperides.

FAILURE.

We are much bound to them that do succeed; But, in a more pathetic sense, are bound To such as fail. They all our loss expound; They comfort us for work that will not speed, And life--itself a failure. Ay, his deed, Sweetest in story, who the dusk profound Of Hades flooded with entrancing sound, Music's own tears, was failure. Doth it read Therefore the worse? Ah, no! so much, to dare, He fronts the regnant Darkness on its throne.-- So much to do; impetuous even there, He pours out love's disconsolate sweet moan-- He wins; but few for that his deed recall: Its power is in the look which costs him all.

A BIRTHDAY WALK.