And counted wealth and ease but loss,
Of Christ to tell!

* * * * *

San Gabriel!
A glamour of the ancient time
Remains with thee! Thou hast the rhyme
Of some old poem, and the scent
Of some old rose's ravishment
Naught can dispel!

* * * * *

LYMAN WHITNEY ALLEN,
in _A Parable of the Rose._



MAY 30.


Wherever a green blade looks up,
A leaf lisps mystery,
Whereso a blossom holds its cup
A mist rings land or sea,
Wherever voice doth utter sound
Or silence make her round--
There worship; it is holy ground.