By twenty thorps, a little town, Till last by Philip's farm I flow For men may come, and men may go, I chatter over stony ways, With many a curve my bank I fret I chatter, chatter, as I flow I wind about, and in and out, And here and there a foamy flake With many a silvery waterbreak And draw them all along, and flow For men may come, and men may go, I steal by lawns and grassy plots, I slip, I slide, I gloom, I glance, I murmur under moon and stars And out again I curve and flow To join the brimming river; For men may come, and men may go, But I go on forever. STARS. BARRY CORNWALL. THEY glide upon their endless way, Forever calm, forever bright; No blind hurry, no delay, Mark the Daughters of the Night; Shine on, sweet-orbèd Souls for aye, We ask not whither lies your way, Nor whence ye came, nor what your light. Bestill a dream throughout the day, A blessing through the night. THE FOUNTAIN. JAMES RUSSELL Lowell.. INTO the sunshine, Into the moonlight, Whiter than snow, Waving so flower-like When the winds blow! Into the starlight, Rushing in spray, Happy by day! Ever in motion, Blithesome and cheery, Still climbing heavenward, Glad of all weathers, Full of a nature Ceaseless aspiring, Ceaseless content, Darkness or sunshine Glorious fountain! Let my heart be Fresh, changeful, constant, Upward like thee! MARCH. WILLIAM WORDSWORTH. THE Cock is crowing, The green field sleeps in the sun; Are at work with the strongest ; Their heads never raising; Like an army defeated On the top of the bare hill; There's life in the fountains; The rain is over and gone. THE SHELL. ALFRED TENNYSON. SEE what a lovely shell, Lying close to my foot, Frail, but a work divine, Made so fairily well With delicate spire and whorl, How exquisitely minute, |