260 LAY OF THE ROSE. 



" Sit still upon your thrones, 

 O ye poetic ones ! 

 And if, sooth, the world decry you, 



Why, let that world pass by you ! 







66 Ye to yourselves suffice, 



Without its flatteries ; 

 Self-contentedly approve you 

 Unto Him who sits above you. 



" In prayers that upward mount, 



Like to a sunned fount, 

 And, in gushing back upon you, 

 Bring the rnusic they have won you. 



" In thanks for all the good 



By poets understood 

 For the sound of seraphs moving 

 Through the hidden depths of loving ! 



" For sights of things away, 

 Through fissures of the clay, 

 Promised things, which shall be given 

 And sung ever up in heaven ! 



