Keep on casting pearls
To a--poet? All I care for
Is--to tell him a girl's
"Love" comes aptly in when gruff
Grows his singing. (There, enough!)

ROBERT BROWNING.

* * * * *



MONT BLANC BEFORE SUNRISE.


Hast thou a charm to stay the morning-star
In his steep course? So long he seems to pause
On thy bald, awful head, O sovereign Blanc!
The Arvé and Arveiron at thy base
Rave ceaselessly; but thou, most awful form,
Risest from forth thy silent sea of pines,
How silently! Around thee, and above,
Deep is the air and dark, substantial, black,
An ebon mass: methinks thou piercest it
As with a wedge. But when I look again
It is thine own calm home, thy crystal shrine,
Thy habitation from eternity.

O dread and silent Mount! I gazed upon thee
Till thou, still present to the bodily sense,