Save maybe some showers of children's flowers,
For the candies we brought last week;

E'en horses have learned to be unconcerned,

And eyes are no more ajar

With drivers' rage we can not assuage,

At the honk of the railless car.

Away, away, in the dawn of day,

In the forenoon's sunlit air,

Let us be in tune with the strength of noon,
And the evening's soft sweet air!

Let us study the rights through days and nights
Of those who our brothers are:

Till all the earth will welcome its worth,

And honk with the railless car!

SONG OF THE CHURCH-BELL.

OME to me, come to me, you who are sad and lone,

COME

You who knew sorrows of others, that now have become your own; You who greet only by memory the friends you once have known, You who are walking desolate, tortured by thorns of care, Come to the house of prayer.

Come to me, come to me, you who in pleasures bright

Drown the gold hours of morning, or the sweet shades of night;
Oh you will feel for my presence when trouble encumbers sight!
Joy is the mother of sorrow: pleasures can breed despair:
Then there is wailing and prayer.

Come to me come to me-you who helpless-wise,

May be unable to come in the fragile body's guise:

It is the spirit that clambers into the towering skies.

So though bodies be prisoned, yet souls in Heaven may share:
Come to the house of prayer.

Come to me, come to me, you who can only agree

In the great lessons of Nature, with what yourselves can see;
Pray as you live-to the Unknown!-for all that is yet to be-
All that has been has been given Mystery's garment to wear:
Mystery's even in prayer!

Come to me come to me-you who diversely believe!
Many the doctrines and fancies that different natures weave;

POEMS BY WILL CARLETON.

Many the rafters to which their hopes of mercy cleave.
Heaven's great dome of splendor is reached by many a stair;
Come to the house of prayer!

Pray with me, pray with me, you who in toil are bowed,
You who are striving and grieving alone in a sneering crowd;
Maybe the lower they crush you, the higher the strength allowed.
Look to the sky above you look into Heaven-it is there:
Come to the house of prayer!

TO THE MADONNA.

FAIR maiden-mother!-whom-to do you pray?—

Not to a far-off God, in pity hearing

Proud prayers through smoke of sacrifice appearing,
And brazen bugle-songs from mouths of clay,

And priests the altars fatten day by day;

But to the child-half loving it, half fearing—
Who brings with him from yonder star-floored place,
Heaven as a present to the human race.

Child of all nations!—has the soul within thee

Yet told the body of its destined path?

How it must walk through flames of human wrath,

How frantic rage to agonies will pin thee,

And fallen angels will reach up to win thee;

How thou must reap Sin's dreary aftermath,

And, clasping to thy heart man's only loss,
Eclipse it with the glory of the cross?

149