Like tissue woven in a fairy loom;
And crimson-berried bryony garlands glow
Through the leaf-tangled gloom.

'The woods are still, but for the sudden fall
Of cupless acorns dropping to the ground,
Or rabbit plunging through the fern-stems tall,
Half-startled by the sound.

'And from the garden lawn comes, soft and clear,
The robin's warble from the leafless spray,
The low sweet Angelus of the dying year,
Passing in light away.'


PROSPERITY.

'I doubt if the maxims the Stoic adduces
Be true in the main, when they state
That our nature's improved by adversity's uses,
And spoilt by a happier fate.

'The heart that is tried by misfortune and pain,
Self-reliance and patience may learn;
Yet worn by long waiting and wishing in vain,
It often grows callous and stern.

'But the heart that is softened by ease and contentment,
Feels warmly and kindly t'wards all;
And its charity, roused by no moody resentment,