PARTING AT MORNING. They are nurseries for young rivers, Masterful, free, and proud. The people of tirèd cities Come up to their shrines and pray ; And lo! I have caught their secret, Are but God ploughing His mountains : W. C. Gannett. R PARTING AT MORNING. OUND the cape of a sudden came the sea, And the sun looked over the mountain's rim, And straight was a path of gold for him, And the need of a world of men for me. R. Browning. OVER THE MOUNTAINS HIGH. HAT shall I see if I ever go WHAT Over the mountains high? Now I can see but the peaks of snow, Crowning the cliffs where the pine-trees grow, Waiting and longing to rise Nearer the beckoning skies. The eagle is rising far away Over the mountains high; Rowing along in the radiant day, With mighty strokes, to his distant prey : Apple-tree, longest thou not to go Gladly thou growest in summer's glow; Birds, with your chattering, why did ye come Beyond, in a sunnier land, ye could roam, FROM "APPLEDORE.” Shall I, then, never, never flee Over the mountains high? Rocky walls, will ye always be Prisons, until ye are tombs, for me— Wrapped in my winding-sheet? Away! I will away, far away, Over the mountains high: Here I am sinking lower each day, Though my spirit has chosen the loftiest way : Let her in freedom fly, Not beat on the walls and die! Once, I know, I shall journey far, Over the mountains high. Lord, is thy door already ajar? Dear is the home where my loved ones are ; But bar it a while from me, And help me to long for thee. 21 B. Bjornson. FROM "APPLEDORE." EASTWARD as far as the eye can see, Still eastward, eastward endlessly, That vibrate under your dizzy eye, In ripples of orange and pink, are sent Sunk deep with precious woods and nard, Lost, dimly found, then vanished wholly, First films, then towers, then high-heaped clouds, Into tall ships with cobweb shrouds, Something it cannot find, and so, FROM "PARACELSUS.” 23 FROM "PARACELSUS.” "The sad rhyme of the men who proudly clung To their first fault, and withered in their pride." Ο VER the sea our galleys went, With cleaving prows in order brave, Each bark built out of a forest tree, We sang together on the wide sea, |