ON THE MANUSCRIPTS OF GOD 



Again, Keats, at the bidding of a sister 

 muse, made as dainty numbers in several 

 lines in "Endymion": 



"Just as the morning south 

 Disparts a dew-lipped rose, . . . 

 To summon all the downiest clouds together 

 For the sun's purple couch." 



A similar pianissimo rendering is the 

 graceful air one finds in a stanza on "Rain," 

 by Mr. Aldrich: 



"We knew it would rain, for all the morn 



A spirit on slender ropes of mist 

 Was lowering its golden buckets down 

 Into the vapoury amethyst." 



Fingering the same marvelously respon- 

 sive keys, Holmes gave us in his "Sun-Day 

 Hymn" this religious modulation of Aid- 

 rich: 



"Our rainbow arch thy mercy's sign, 

 All save the clouds of sin are thine." 



Nor must one forget, in acknowledging 

 the debt of poetry to the many-voiced 

 waters, the metaphorical wealth which is a 

 by-product of a vast number of nautical 



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