They hoard not, yet they rest in calm content,
And not unsought will give;
They can be quiet with their wealth unspent,
So self-contained they live.
And there are some like springs, that bubbling burst
To follow dusty ways,
And run with offered cup to quench his thirst
Where the tired traveller strays;
That never ask the meadows if they want
What is their joy to give;--
Unasked, their lives to other life they grant,
So self-bestowed they live!
And One is like the ocean, deep and wide,
Wherein all waters fall;
That girdles the broad earth, and draws the tide,
Feeding and bearing all;
That broods the mists, that sends the clouds abroad,
That takes, again to give;--
Even the great and loving heart of God.
Whereby all love doth live.
CAROLINE S. SPENCER.
* * * * *
DEVOTION.
The immortal gods
Accept the meanest altars, that are raised
By pure devotion; and sometimes prefer
An ounce of frankincense, honey, or milk,
Before whole hecatombs, or Sabaean gems,
Offered in ostentation.
PHILIP MASSINGER.
* * * * *
THE SEASIDE WELL.
"Waters flowed over mine head; then I said, I am cut
off."--LAMENTATIONS iii. 54.
One day I wandered where the salt sea-tide
Backward had drawn its wave,
And found a spring as sweet as e'er hillside
To wild-flowers gave.
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