A SEA OF MIST. 



All day it rained. At twilight time, singing through the valley 

 We heard the rushing waters of the noisy Norman's-kill ; 



The leafless trees that fringed the wood, seemed to toss and tremble ; 

 And dreary stretched the pasture land, far far adown the hill. 



But strange and new the landscape that greeted us at morning : 

 Lapping the withered orchard grass, water appeared to lie, 



And spread from thence a silver sea, over hill and valley, 

 'Till on horizon far away it blended into sky. 



Placid it lay and lovely, with two or three green islands 



Where hemlocks on the hillside pushed their highest branches through ; 



'From low clouds hanging eastward, the sun shot golden arrows 

 Athwart the silver of the sea, while overhead was blue. 



It seemed like some enchantment. We were in another country 



In landscape unfamiliar, with no hint of yesterday. 

 But soon the wind began to blow, the silver sea was troubled, 



It rose and fell, then slowly breaking vanished far away. 



— Jaen Flower. 



THE LARK. 



The Lark must soar to pour 

 Its song athwart the sky, 

 Earth-bound it could not hear 

 The heavenly music near, 

 Repeat the echoes in its melody. 



Soar high and sing, 



O Lark! on tireless wing! 



Tell us who wait 



The secrets thou has gleaned 



At Heaven's gate! 



Repeat the song 



They sing above the storm, 



Our songs re-form ! 



To thee belong 



Two worlds, 



Linked by thy song. 



— Nelly Hart Woodworth. 



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