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For Nature also, cold and warm,
And moist and dry, devising long,

Through many agents making strong, Matures the individual form.

Meet is it changes should control
Our being, lest we rust in ease.
We all are changed by still degrees,
All but the basis of the soul.

So let the change which comes be free
To ingroove itself with that, which flies,
And work, a joint of state, that plies
Its office, moved with sympathy.

A saying hard to shape in act;
For all the past of Time reveals
A bridal dawn of thunder-peals,
Wherever Thought hath wedded Fact.

Even now we hear with inward strife
A motion toiling in the gloom-
The Spirit of the years to come
Yearning to mix himself with Life.

A slow-developed strength awaits
Completion in a painful school;
Phantoms of other forms of rule,
New Majesties of mighty States

The warders of the growing hour,
But vague in vapor, hard to mark;
And round them sea and air are dark
With great contrivances of Power.

Of many changes, aptly joined,
Is bodied forth the second whole.
Regard gradation, lest the soul
Of Discord race the rising wind:

A wind to puff your idol-fires,

And heap their ashes on the head; To shame the boast so often made, That we are wiser than our sires.

O yet, if Nature's evil star

Drive men in manhood, as in youth,

To follow flying steps of Truth Across the brazen bridge of war

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If New and Old, disastrous feud,
Must ever shock, like armed foes,

And this be true, till Time shall close,
That Principles are rained in blood;

Not yet the wise of heart would cease

To hold his hope through shame and guilt, But with his hand against the hilt, Would pace the troubled land, like Peace;

Not less, though dogs of Faction bay,
Would serve his kind in deed and word,
Certain, if knowledge bring the sword,
That knowledge takes the sword away-

Would love the gleams of good that broke
From either side, nor veil his eyes:

And if some dreadful need should rise,
Would strike, and firmly, and one stroke:

To-morrow yet would reap to-day,

As we bear blossom of the dead;
Earn well the thrifty months, nor wed

Raw Haste, half-sister to Delay.

THE GOOSE.

I.

I KNEW an old wife lean and poor, rags scarce held together;

Her

There strode a stranger to the door,

And it was windy weather.

II.

He held a goose upon his arm,
He uttered rhyme and reason,
“Here, take the goose, and keep you warm,
It is a stormy season."

III.

She caught the white goose by the leg,

A goose

't was no great matter.

The goose let fall a golden egg

With cackle and with clatter.

IV.

She dropt the goose, and caught the pelf, And ran to tell her neighbors;

And blessed herself, and cursed herself, And rested from her labors.

And feeding high, and living soft,
Grew plump and able-bodied;

Until the grave churchwarden doffed,

The

parson smirked and nodded.

VI.

So sitting, served by man and maid,
She felt her heart grow prouder:

But ah! the more the white goose laid,
It clacked and cackled louder.

VII.

It cluttered here, it chuckled there;
It stirred the old wife's mettle:
She shifted in her elbow-chair,

And hurled the pan and kettle.