TRUTH.
It fortifies my soul to know
That though I perish, truth is so,
That howsoe'er I stray and range,
Whate'er I do, thou dost not change.
I steadier step when I recall
That, if I slip, thou dost not fall.
Arthur Hugh Clough.
OUR PETS.
We, dying, fondly hope the life immortal
To win at last;
Yet all that live must through death's dreary portal
At length have passed.
And from the hope which shines so bright above us,
My spirit turns,
And for the lowlier ones, that serve and love us,
Half sadly yearns.
Never a bird its glad way safely winging
Through those blest skies?
Never, through pauses in the joyful singing,
Its notes to rise?
Not one of those who toil's severest burdens
So meekly bear,
To find at last of faithful labor's guerdons
An humble share?