414 SKETCHES IN EHYME. 



Suns rise and set ; moons wax and wane ; 



The seasons come, the seasons go ; 

 Onward to the eternal main 



The everlasting rivers flow ; 

 From ocean's bosom mists arise. 



Arise to fall to earth in rain ; 

 The snow-flakes winnowed from the skies 



Like Antseus touch to rise again. 



Eternal mountains prop the clouds ; 



Eternal valleys stretch between ; 

 The one enwrapt in snowy shrouds, 



The other robed in endless green. 

 I ask, why should these elements 



Live soulless on, while mortal man. 

 So filled with soul and God-given sense. 



Meets death, when lived his little span ? 



We know the river flowing by 



Will, heaven-descended, seek its source. 

 We know the shrubbery, bare and dry. 



The spring will cover in its course. 

 But do we die, though know we not. 



The scenes behind the curtain's fall ? 

 If to our gaze it is not brought, 



Is there no hope beyond the pall ? 



If light Divine illumine not 



The dreaded haunts of the Beyond ; 



Is there not proof within the thought 

 Which in earth, sky or stream is found ? 



