Part 7 (1/2)

By thirty hills I hurry down, Or slip between the ridges, By twenty thorps, a little town, And half a hundred bridges.

Till last by Philip's farm I flow To join the br.i.m.m.i.n.g river; For men may come, and men may go, But I go on forever.

I chatter over stony ways, In little sharps and trebles; I bubble into eddying bays; I babble on the pebbles.

With many a curve my bank I fret By many a field and fallow, And many a fairy foreland set With willow-weed and mallow.

I chatter, chatter as I flow To join the br.i.m.m.i.n.g river, For men may come, and men may go, But I go on forever.

I wind about, and in and out, With here a blossom sailing, And here and there a l.u.s.ty trout, And here and there a grayling,

And here and there a foamy flake Upon me as I travel, With many a silvery waterbreak Above the golden gravel,

And draw them all along and flow To join the br.i.m.m.i.n.g river, For men may come, and men may go, But I go on forever.

I steal by lawns and gra.s.sy plots, I slide by hazel covers, I move the sweet forget-me-nots That grow for happy lovers.

I slip, I slide, I gloom, I glance, Among my skimming swallows; I make the netted sunbeam dance Against my sandy shallows.

I murmur under moon and stars In brambly wildernesses; I linger by my s.h.i.+ngly bars; I loiter round my cresses;

And out again I curve and flow To join the br.i.m.m.i.n.g river, For men may come and men may go But I go on forever.

--_Tennyson._

THE WONDERFUL WORLD.

Great, wide, beautiful, wonderful World, With the wonderful water around you curled, And the wonderful gra.s.s upon your breast-- World, you are beautifully dressed.

The wonderful air is over me, And the wonderful wind is shaking the tree, It walks on the water, and whirls the mills, And talks to itself on the tops of the hills.

You, friendly Earth, how far do you go, With the wheatfields that nod and the rivers that flow, With cities and gardens, and cliffs, and isles, And people upon you for thousands of miles?

Ah, you are so great, and I am so small, I tremble to think of you, World, at all; And yet, when I said my prayers, to-day, A whisper inside me seemed to say, ”You are more than the earth, though you are such a dot: You can love and think, and the Earth can not!”

--_W. B. Rands._

DON'T GIVE UP.

If you've tried and have not won, Never stop for crying; All that's great and good is done Just by patient trying.

Though young birds, in flying, fall, Still their wings grow stronger; And the next time they can keep Up a little longer.

Though the st.u.r.dy oak has known Many a blast that bowed her, She has risen again, and grown Loftier and prouder.

If by easy work you beat, Who the more will prize you?

Gaining victory from defeat, That's the test that tries you!

--_Phoebe Cary._

WE ARE SEVEN.