And so the shadows fall apart,

And so the west-winds play; And all the windows of my heart I open to the day.

JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER.

HOPE EVERMORE AND BELIEVE.

ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH, of whom Emerson said that he would make Tennyson look to his laurels, was born at Liverpool, Jan. 1, 1819. He was educated at Rugby, under the celebrated Dr. Arnold, who, as Clough's fellowpupil, Dean Stanley, says, watched over his career with an uncommonly lively interest. He subsequently won laurels at Oxford, but found himself out of sympathy with the prevailing thought there, and left, coming to America, where he lived for a few months in 1852, and made many friends. Having an appointment tendered him in connection with the privy council office, he returned to England. His health, never robust, failed under the pressure of efforts in aid of the work of his wife's cousin, Florence Nightingale, and he died at Florence, where he had gone with Mr. and Mrs. Alfred Tennyson, Nov. 13, 1861.

HOPE evermore and believe, O man, for e'en as thy thought

So are the things that thou see'st; e'en as thy hope and belief.

Cowardly art thou and timid? They rise to provoke thee against them. Hast thou courage? Enough, see them exulting to yield.

Yea, the rough rock, the dull earth, the wild sea's furying waters

(Violent, say'st thou, and hard, mighty, thou think'st, to destroy), All with ineffable longing are waiting their Invader,

All, with one varying voice, call to him, Come and subdue;

Still for their conqueror call, and, but for the joy of being conquered (Rapture they will not forego), dare to resist and rebel;

Still, when resisting and raging, in soft undervoice say unto him,

Fear not, retire not, O man; hope evermore and believe!

Go from the east to the west, as the sun and the stars direct thee,

Go with the girdle of man, go and encompass

the earth.

Not for the gain of the gold: for the getting, the hoarding, the having,

But for the joy of the deed; but for the duty to do.

Go with the spiritual life, the higher volition and action,

With the great girdle of God, go and encompass the earth.

Go; say not in thy heart, And what then were it accomplished,

Were the wild impulse allayed, what were the use or the good!

Go, when the instinct is stilled, and when the deed is accomplished,

What thou hast done and shalt do, shall be declared to thee then.

Go with the sun and the stars, and yet evermore in thy spirit

Say to thyself: It is good: yet is there better

than it.

This that I see is not all, and this that I do is but little;

Nevertheless it is good, though there is better than it.

ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH.

SECRET.

WHEN winds are raging o'er the upper ocean, And billows wild contend with angry roar, 'T is said, far down beneath the wild commotion,

That peaceful stillness reigneth evermore.

Far, far beneath, the noise of tempests dieth,

And silver waves chime ever peacefully, And no rude storm, how fierce soe'er it flieth,

Disturbs the Sabbath of that deeper sea.

So to the heart that knows thy love, O Purest !
There is a temple, sacred evermore,
And all the babble of life's angry voices

Dies in hushed stillness at its peaceful door.

Far, far away, the roar of passion dieth,

And loving thoughts rise calm and peacefully,

And no rude storm, how fierce soe'er it flieth, Disturbs the soul that dwells, O Lord, in thee.

O rest of rests! O peace, serene, eternal! Thou ever livest, and thou changest never; And in the secret of thy presence dwelleth Fulness of joy, forever and forever! HARRIET BEECHER STOWE.