Dawning of glory! the world's great heart
Throbs not its truest response to art.
Nor skill, nor fame, nor glamour of gold;
Only Love's chain doth the world enfold.
And those who will soar on angel wings,
Are the generous even in smaller things.
Generous when shadows darken fate,
To close 'gainst evil a neighbor's gate.
THE HIDING PLACE.[Note]
The low, sweet voice of a summer's sea
Floats far along the pebbly strand; Whilst melodies, from greening grove,
Resound o'er all the pleasant land. The streamlet, freed from icy band,
Sings gaily on its seaward way; All nature, in responsive mood,
Doth chime in Springtide roundelay.
What notes discordant dare to mar
Those tender cadenzas of song? Can those shrill tones be tones of wrath
On softest zephyrs borne along? Yea! over Ocean's peaceful hum
A woman's wrathful voice soars high; And through the green-arched forest aisles
Rings out young childhood's plaintive cry.