Page:The Atlantic Monthly Volume 2.djvu/558

550  that raged through her heart, when her tears burst forth. She was not weeping for pity merely, nor because her father wept. Long before he lifted his head, she was erect, and quiet, and hopeful,—but a child no more. She was a woman to love, a woman to dare,—fit and ready for the guiding of an angel.

By-and-by Adolphus said to Pauline,—

"If any one else had undertaken this job in our place, we should have deserved to be shut out of heaven for it. Thinking twice about it! I'm ashamed of myself. Why,—why,—he looks like a ghost. But he won't look that way long! We aren't here to browbeat a man, and kill him by inches, I take it."

"No, indeed!" said Pauline, as if the bare idea filled her with indignation. The three were surely one now.

WALDEINSAMKEIT.

not count the hours I spend

In wandering by the sea;

The forest is my loyal friend,

Like God it useth me.

In plains that room for shadows make

Of skirting hills to lie,

Bound in by streams which give and take

Their colors from the sky;

Or on the mountain-crest sublime,

Or down the oaken glade,

O what have I to do with time?

For this the day was made.

Cities of mortals woe-begone

Fantastic care derides,

But in the serious landscape lone

Stern benefit abides.

Sheen will tarnish, honey cloy,

And merry is only a mask of sad,

But, sober on a fund of joy,

The woods at heart are glad.

There the great Planter plants

Of fruitful worlds the grain,

And with a million spells enchants

The souls that walk in pain.

Still on the seeds of all he made

The rose of beauty burns;

Through times that wear and forms that fade,

Immortal youth returns.