WISDOM UNAPPLIED.

I.

IF I were thou, O butterfly,

And poised my purple wing to spy
The sweetest flowers that live and die,

II.

I would not waste my strength on those,
As thou, for summer has a close,
And pansies bloom not in the snows.

III.

If I were thou, ◇ working bee,
And all that honey-gold I see,
Could delve from roses easily,

IV.

I would not hive it at man's door,
As thou,-that heirdom of my store
Should make him rich, and leave me poor.

V.

If I were thou, O eagle proud,

And screamed the thunder back aloud, And faced the lightning from the cloud,

VI.

I would not build my eyrie-throne,
As thou,-upon a crumbling stone,
Which the next storm may trample down.

VII.

If I were thou, O gallant steed,
With pawing hoof, and dancing head,
And eye outrunning thine own speed,

VIII.

I would not meeken to the rein,

As thou,-nor smooth my nostril plain From the glad desert's snort and strain.

IX.

If I were thou, red-breasted bird,
With song at shut-up window heard,
Like Love's sweet yes too long deferred,

X.

I would not overstay delight,

As thou, but take a swallow-flight,
Till the new spring returned to sight.

XI.

While yet I spake, a touch was laid
Upon my brow, whose pride did fade,
And thus, methought, an angel said,-

XII.

'If I were thou who sing'st this song, Most wise for others, and most strong In seeing right while doing wrong,

XIII.

'I would not waste my cares, and choose, As thou,-to seek what thon must lose, Such gains as perish in the use.

XIV.

'I would not work where none can win, As thou,-half way 'twixt grief and sin, But look above, and judge within.

XV.

'I would not let my pulse beat high, As thou, towards fame's regality, Nor yet in love's great jeopardy.

XVI.

'I would not champ the hard cold bit, As thou,-of what the world thinks fit, But take God's freedom, using it.

XVII.

'I would not play earth's winter out, As thou, but gird my soul about, And live for life past death and doubt.

XVIII.

'Then sing, O singer!-but allow, Beast, fly, and bird, called foolish now, Are wise (for all thy scorn) as thou!'

MEMORY AND HOPE.

I.

BACK-LOOKING Memory

And prophet Hope both sprang from out the ground; One, where the flashing of Cherubic sword

Fell sad, in Eden's ward,

And one, from Eden earth, within the sound
Of the four rivers lapsing pleasantly,

What time the promise after curse was said-
'Thy seed shall bruise his head.'

II.

Poor Memory's brain is wild,

As moonstruck by that flaming atmosphere
When she was born. Her deep eyes shine and shone
With light that conquereth sun

And stars to wanner paleness year by year.
With odorous gums, she mixeth things defiled.
She trampleth down earth's grasses green and sweet,
With her far-wandering feet.

She plucketh many flowers,

Their beauty on her bosom's coldness killing.
She teacheth every melancholy sound

To winds and waters round.

She droppeth tears with seed where man is tilling The rugged soil in his exhausted hours.

She smileth-ah me! in her smile doth go

A mood of deeper woe.

IV.

Hope tripped out of sight,

Crowned with an Eden wreath she saw not witner.
And went a-nodding through the wilderness
With brow that shone no less

Than a sea-gull's wing, brought nearer by rough weather:

Searching the treeless rock for fruits of light;
Her fair quick feet being armed from stones and cold,
By slippers of pure gold.

V.

Memory did Hope much wrong,

And, while she dreamed, her slippers stole away;
But still she wended on with mirth unheeding,
Although her feet were bleeding,

Till Memory tracked her on a certain day,
And with most evil eyes did search her long
And cruelly, whereat she sank to ground
In a stark deadly swound.

VI.

And so my Hope were slain,

Had it not been that THOU wert standing near,
Oh Thou, who saidest 'live,' to creatures lying
In their own blood and dying!

For Thou her forehead to thine heart didst rear
And make its silent pulses sing again,—
Pouring a new light o'er her darkened eyne,
With tender tears from Thine!