VII.

It is thy |DUTY|! Guard it well! For unto thee hath much been given, And thou canst make this life a Hell, Or Jacob's-ladder up to Heaven. Let not thy baptism in Life's wave Make thee like him whom Homer sings-- A sleeper in a living grave, Callous and hard to outward things; But open all thy soul and sense To every blessèd influence That from the heart of Nature springs: Then shall thy Life-flowers be to thee, When thy best years are told, As much as these have been to me-- Yea, more, a thousand-fold!

THE LOVER.

Go from the world from East to West, Search every land beneath the sky, You cannot find a man so blest, A king so powerful as I, Though you should seek eternally.

For I a gentle lover be, Sitting at my loved-one's side; She giveth her whole soul to me Without a wish or thought of pride, And she shall be my cherished bride.

No show of gaudiness hath she, She doth not flash with jewels rare; In beautiful simplicity She weareth leafy garlands fair, Or modest flowers in her hair.

Sometimes she dons a robe of green, Sometimes a robe of snowy white, But, in whatever garb she's seen, It seems most beautiful and right, And is the loveliest to my sight.

Not I her lover am alone, Yet unto all she doth suffice, None jealous is, and every one Reads love and truth within her eyes, And deemeth her his own dear prize.