THE Teese rR . 
By J. W. Mutter. 
‘With gentle feet and peaceful heart 
He goeth by still ways ; 
‘The world’s ambitions lure him not 
From many streams and bays; 
He holds gold cheap to whom God sends 
The wealth of quiet days. 
He wandereth where silent groves 
Stand dark on silent shores ; 
Where specks of straying sunlight fall 
Slow splash his lazy oars, 
And woodland breezes bear to him 
Sweet gifts from Nature's stores. 
Grandly from out the eastern sea, 
With white cloud sails unfurled, 
He sees the mighty fleet of day 
Steal on a sleeping world, 
While from the strand deep broadsides boom, 
Where the white surf is hurled. 
Where all the world’s loud noise is hushed, 
And only breezes sigh, 
Where peacefully and aimlessly 
The white clouds sail the sky, 
There dreameth he, and on the world 
Looks with a placid eye. 
To him, his evening comes where winds 
Blow soft on reeded shore, 
Where softly like a requiem sounds 
The distant ocean’s roar, 
While on his sleep the silent stars 
Look down forever more. 

