The Poetical Works of Edward Rowland Sill

isten until we catch the key, and know Our note, and then chime in ? not rave and run, And shout our frantic orders, just as though We were the leader of the orchestra, Not little separate voices; could we wait, Each in his corner, conning quietly His part, the chords would be the sweeter for it. A Paradox Haste, haste, O laggard ? leave thy drowsy dreams ! Cram all thy brain with knowledge; clutch and cram! The earth is wide, the universe is vast: Thou hast infinity to learn. Oh, haste! Haste not, haste not, my soul! " Infinity " ? Thou hast eternity to learn it in. Thy boundless lesson through the endless years Hath boundless leisure. Run not like a slave ? Sit like a king, and see the ranks of worlds Wheel in their cycles onward to thy feet. MAN, THE SPIRIT 67 I know a spot beneath three ancient trees, A solitude of green and grassy shade, Where the tall roses, naked to the knees, In that deep shadow wade, Whose rippled coolness drips from bough to bough, And bathes the world's vexation from my brow. The gnarled limbs spring upward airy-free, And from their perfect arch they scarcely swerve, Like spouted fountains from a dark, green sea So beautiful they curve,? Motionless fountains, slumbering in mid-air, With spray of shadows falling everywhere. Here the Sun comes not like the king of day, To rule his own, but hesitant, afraid, Forbears his sceptre's golden length to ...