POETRY.
ON BRIGHTON CLIFFS.
NIGHT after night this miracle is seen, Sunset and silver waters, moon and star ; And when the full host fills the deep serene, And heaven is near, and human noise afar, Then the night-flowering Cereus of the soul Opens and sends a perfumed prayer to heaven, And faintly feels the music of the whole, All harm forgotten and all hurt forgiven.
And what of these vain, vulgar, myriad lives ?
Have they some unheard music as they pass, Unlovely each, yet making in the mass Some God-delighting beauty, that survives, Serene and lovely as the silvered sea, Where all foal things and cruel creatures be ?
F. W. BOURDILLON.