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In a fout arah

a amay be And in

how he untroubled sleep,

her soft brown hair, A love pirt Adisper, heast da prayer.

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Lowell's HOME AT CAMBRIDGE. And one tall elm, this hundredth year,

Shadows, with his palatial mass, Doge of our leafy Venice here,

The deep canal of flowing grass, Who, with an annual ring, doth wed Where glow the dandelions sparse, The blue Adriatic overhead,

For shadows of Italian stars.


The great trees murmur at the midnight hour ;

The birds in silence wait:
A soul is passing to the Fount of Power, –

Elmwood is desolate.

Lover of nature, lover of his race,

Learned, and true, and strong:
Using for others, with surpassing grace,

The matchless gift of song,

When clouds hung darkest in our day of pain,

He prophesied the light;
He looked adown the ages for the reign

Of Brotherhood and Right.

Proud of his country, helping to unbind

The fetters of the slave :
Two worlds their wreaths of honor have entwined

About one open grave.

Great in his simple love of flower and bird,

Great in the statesman's art,
He has been greatest in his lifting word

To every human heart.

He lived the lesson which Sir Launfal guessed

Through wandering far and wide ; The giver must be given in the quest: He gave himself, and died.


Publishers: Thomas ). Crowell & Co., New York Soo Boston

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