O sleep, sweet sleep!

Whatever form thou takest, thou art fair,
Holding unto our lips thy goblet filled

Out of Oblivion's well, a healing draught!

The Spanish Student

JANUARY TWENTY-FIFTH

Were half the power, that fills the world with

terror,

Were half the wealth, bestowed on camps and

courts,

Given to redeem the human mind from error,
There were no need of arsenals nor forts.
The Arsenal at Springfield

JANUARY TWENTY-SIXTH

The warrior's name would be a name abhorred ! And every nation, that should lift again

Its hand against a brother, on its forehead Would wear for evermore the curse of Cain !

The Arsenal at Springfield

JANUARY TWENTY-SEVENTH

Then, through the silence overhead,
An angel with a trumpet said,
"For evermore, for evermore,
The reign of violence is o'er !"
And, like an instrument that flings
Its music on another's strings,

The trumpet of the angel cast
Upon the heavenly lyre its blast,
And on from sphere to sphere the words
Reechoed down the burning chords,-
"For evermore, for evermore,

The reign of violence is o'er !"

JANUARY TWENTY-EIGHTH

Cross against corslet,
Love against hatred,
Peace-cry for war-cry!
Patience is powerful;
He that o'ercometh

Hath power o'er the nations!

The Occultation of Orion

The Saga of King Olaf

JANUARY TWENTY-NINTH

Out of the bosom of the Air,

Out of the cloud-folds of her garments shaken,

Over the woodlands brown and bare

Over the harvest-fields forsaken,

Silent, and soft, and slow

Descends the snow.

Snow-Flakes

Even as our cloudy fancies take

Suddenly shape in some divine expression,
Even as the troubled heart doth make

In the white countenance confession,
The troubled sky reveals
The grief it feels.

JANUARY THIRTY-FIRST

This is the poem of the air,

Slowly in silent syllables recorded;
This is the secret of despair,

Long in its cloudy bosom hoarded,
Now whispered and revealed
To wood and field.

Snow-Flakes

Snow-Flakes

O

NWARD its course the present keeps,
Onward the constant current sweeps,

Till life is done;

And, did we judge of time aright,
The past and future in their flight
Would be as one.

FEBRUARY SECOND

But at length the feverish day
Like a passion died away,

And the night, serene and still,
Fell on village, vale, and hill.

Coplas de Manrique

Daylight and Moonlight

FEBRUARY THIRD

All are sleeping, weary heart!
Thou, thou only sleepless art!
All this throbbing, all this aching,
Evermore shall keep thee waking,
For a heart in sorrow breaking
Thinketh ever of its smart!

The Spanish Student

This life of ours is a wild aeolian harp of many a joyous strain,

But under them all there runs a loud perpetual wail, as of souls in pain.

The Spanish Student

FEBRUARY FIFTH

Faith alone can interpret life, and the heart that aches and bleeds with the stigma

Of pain, alone bears the likeness of Christ, and can comprehend its dark enigma.

The Spanish Student

FEBRUARY SIXTH

Why should I live? Do I not know
The life of woman is full of woe?
Toiling on and on and on,

With breaking heart, and tearful eyes,

And silent lips, and in the soul

The secret longings that arise,

Which this world never satisfies!

Some more, some less, but of the whole

Not one quite happy, no, not one!

The Spanish Student