POETRY.
SOME MEMORIES.
A LUCENT clarity of young bright air; Soft, cool, sweet breeze ; The sheen of palms, too delicate for glare; Just stirring trees ; A witching freshness. Sweet young maiden-hour 'Twixt blaze and shade!
Poised like the open bloom of tropic flower Just ere it fade.
A gentle night ;—awake, for moonlight seems, With quiet eyes, To look around, a living thing, and gleams On earth and skies ; In loveliness that overflows the brink Of my strait soul,— I must be larger, nobler, ere I think To grasp the whole.
Yet over all my world this light of God Both shows and hides, Brightens what can give light in wondrous mode, But dark abides The mean, the base, the soiled. A vista see Of stately palms, With shining fronds which rustle daintily