POETRY.
THE GOLDEN BOOK OF MARCUS AURELIUS.
Minces, since thou didst live thy day, The world has aged millennial years, But atilt thy golden book can say Its message to our listening ears.
Writ in thy tent before the foe— Those Marchmen from whose loins we spring— Its pages catch the watch-fire's glow, With tramp of armbd men they ring.
They tell no each man's life on earth, Whether he be a king or slave, Is but a warfare from his birth Down to the silence of the grave. They teach ns how to see and hate The faults that we alone can ken, And in kind rah extenuate
The failings of our fellow men.
They show us bow the wise man stands Above the loud world's stress and strife, And holds in his own ample hands
The master keys of fate and life.
0 soldier, statesman, stoic, king, The flower and crown of heathenesse, From thy deep thoughts what echoes ring Of solace, strength, and saintliness For us, who follow that high code Which thou in ignorance didst ban, Thou, from whose lips true wisdom flowed, As from thy life pure love to man !
REGTNALD HAMM.
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