And IT at last shall also die!
Hence, measured by the eternal scale,
It ranks but as the butterfly,--
A world, ephemeral, fair and frail.

Man, insect, earth, or distant star,--
They differ only in degree;
Their transient lives, or near or far,
Are moments in eternity!

Yet somehow to my spirit clings
The faith that man survives the sod,
For this poor insect's broken wings
Have raised my thoughts from earth to God.




AFTER THE STORM

The duel of the warring clouds
Hath ended with the day;
Their scintillant, electric blades
Have ceased their fearful play;
The pent up fury of their hate
Hath found at last release,
And o'er the tempest-stricken earth
Broods now the hush of peace.

The passing of the hurricane