Alack, this world Is full of change, change, change,-nothing but change! All which is past, is past Even while we gaze the simulated form Drops into dust, like many‐centuried corpse At opening of a tomb.

Yet on! We may not stay To weep or laugh. Till at the gate of some memorial hour We pause-look in its sepulchre to find The cast‐off shape that years since we called “I”- And start, amazed. “With whom is no variableness, neither shadow of turning.” AUTUMN to winter, winter into spring, Spring into summer, summer into fall,- So rolls the changing year, and so we change Motion so swift, we know not that we move. And dull sound of sheaves slow falling,.When night dews weigh down the wheat‐ears,.Where the full‐stored ears droop downwards,.White wings have they, and white raiment,.Where the evening sun shines slant‐wise.“The harvest is the end of the world, and the reapers are the As thou sit’st at the feet of God victorious,.My Saul, than thy brethren taller and fairer.As to one heaven‐chosen amongst his peers:.The spirit that there lies sleeping now.Up from thy sweet mouth,-up to thy brow,.For we that love, ah! we love so blindly,.Thou dost enter, love‐crowned, and there.Till thou shalt find a queen‐handmaiden,.“Who bears upon his baby brow the round And top of sovereignty.” The present edition in the “Blue and Gold” series contains many pieces not Whether they were worth collecting, and are really “Poems,” public opinion must Of them, here and in America, has induced the author to collect, select, revise, MANY of these Poems, extending over a period of several years, haveĪppeared anonymously in Chamber’s Journal and elsewhere. By The Author of “John Halifax, Gentleman,”

Bleach brave souls immutable balls