And never seems to think that it must thread
The misty fen, where every flower grows rank
Amid the lazy ooze, and sink at last

Beneath the boundless sea. Oh, happy they,
Who thus go laughing on from year to year,
And never know the mystery of being,

And never start and shudder at the dream
That they and all mankind are dreaming-Life,
And strive to wake, but fall back helplessly;
Who fancy sunlight, when the sky is dark,
And never know that time, like India's snake,
Enwraps us with his gaudy-coloured folds

Of changing seasons, till his dread embrace
Has crushed out life; who live, and laugh, and weep,
And tread the dust of myriads underfoot,

And see men die around them, yet whose life,

The demon form that stalks beside my path,
The consciousness of never-ending change,
Has never darkened, as it darkens mine,
Beneath the shadow of the wings of Death.

March, 1882.

KNOWLEDGE.

THEY were islanders, our fathers were,
And they watched the encircling seas,
And their hearts drank in the ceaseless stir,
And the freedom of the breeze;

Till they chafed at their narrow bounds

And longed for the sweep of the main,
And they fretted and fumed like hounds
Held in within sight of the plain,
And the play

And the prey.

So they built them ships of wood, and sailed To many an unknown coast;

They braved the storm and battles hailed,

And danger they loved most;

Till the tiny ships of wood

Grew powerful on the globe,

And the new-found lands for good
They wrapped in a wondrous robe
Of bold design,

Our brave ensign.

And islanders yet in a way are we,
Our knowledge is still confined,
And we hear the roar of encircling sea,
To be crossed in the ship of the mind;
And we dream of lands afar,

Unknown, unconquered yet,

And we chafe at the bounds there are,
And our spirits fume and fret
For the prize

Of the wise.

But we'll never do aught, I know, unless
We are brave as our sires of old,

And face like them the bitterness
Of the battle and storm and cold;
Unless we boldly stand,

When men would hold us back,

G

With the helm-board in our hand,

And our eyes to the shining track

Of what may be

Beyond the sea.

There are rocks out there in that wide, wide sea, 'Neath many a darkling stream,

And souls that once sailed out bold and free
Have been carried away in a dream ;

For they never came back again—
On the deep the ships were lost;

But in spite of the danger and pain,
The ocean has still to be crossed,
And only they do

Who are brave and true.

BEYOND.

My heart it lies beyond, dear,
In the land of the setting day,
Where the whispers are soft and fond, dear,
Of the voices that pass away;
And oft, when the night is falling,
And a calm is on the sea,

I fancy I hear them calling
From that far-off land for me.

It is only idle dreaming,

But the dream is full of rest,

And up where that glory is streaming,
From the gates of the golden west,

I wander away in spirit,

With a mingled joy and pain,

Till I almost seem to inherit

The sweet dead past again.