Page:The New Penelope.djvu/344

338 To the jagged rocks that fling

Mildew shadows, black and blight.

Learn a lesson from the stream,

Poet! though thy path may lie

Hid forever from the gleam

Of the blue and sunny sky,—

Though thy way be steep and long,

Sing thou still a cheerful song!

SPIRIT OF BEAUTY.

SPIRIT OF THE TREES.

Let us wave our branches gently

With a murmur low and loving;

He will say we sang him quaintly

Some old ballad, sweetly moving.

'Tis of all the ways the surest

To awake a poet's fancies,

For he loves these things the purest—

Sigh of leaves, and scent of pansies.

He has loved us, we will love him,

And will cheer his hour of sadness,