232 IN THE DAYS 0F AUDUBON 



Or hast thou yet a spirit life, that flies 

 Like thine own image through the endless skies, 

 And art thou to some new-born paradise 

 By higher instincts led? 



Is death, like life, alike to all that live? 

 Does God to all a double life give? 

 Do all that breathe eternal life receive? 

 Is thought, where'er it be, 



Immortal as the Source from whence it came? 



O living Ibis! in the sunset's flame, 



Still flying westward thou and I, the same, 



Can answer not — but He? 



— Youth's Companion. 



THE EAGLE 



BY JAMES GATES PERCIVAL 



Bird of the broad and sweeping wing, 



Thy home is high in heaven, 

 Where wide the storms their banner fling, 



And the tempest-clouds are driven. 

 Thy throne is on the mountain-top; 



Thy fields, the boundless air; 

 And hoary peaks, that proudly prop 



The skies, thy dwellings are. 



Thou attest, like a thing of light, 



Amid the noontide blaze: 

 The mid-day sun, though clear and bright, 



Can never dim thy gaze. 



