FLOTSAM AND JETSAM.

'VE sailed the sea these many years,

Yet stout my heart, undimmed my eye; Whene'er I meet my sailing peers,

"All's well!" I to their shout reply.

These many years I've sailed the sea,
Been tossed by tempest, bound by calm;
My freight was orient spicery,

And fruitage of the Indian palm.

Far lighter is my laden bark

Than when it left the morning shore :
To 'scape the waters hoarse and dark,
I freely cast abroad my store.

Of this, some part, in secret caves,
Lies mixed with dim, unfooted sands;
Some part is borne upon the waves
To richly portion barren strands.

I would some wrecker there might be
Where'er my noble freightage drifts,
To whom the undiscerning sea

Might bring these stolen things as gifts:

Thou shivering dweller by the sands,

Look what to thee a bankrupt sends!

What falls to thine unweeting hands

Shall house thee, feed thee, make thee friends.

BY THE SEA-SHORE.

I've sailed the sea these many years,

Yet stout my heart, undimmed my eye; When'er I meet my sailing peers,

"All's well!" I to their shout reply.

Now close at hand the roadstead lies,

Nor shall I shame to enter there,
Though my good ship hath lost her prize,-
Keel split and masts beyond repair!

141

Each higher wave

Doth touch and lave

A million pebbles smooth and bright ; Straightway they grow

A beauteous show,

With hues unknown before bedight.

High up the beach,

Far out of reach

Of common tides that ebb and flow,

The drift wood's heap

Doth record keep

Of storms that perished long ago.

Nor storms alone :

I hear the moan

Of voices choked by dashing brine,

When sunken rock

Or tempest shock

Crushed the good vessel's oaken spine.

Where ends the beach,

The cliffs upreach

Their lichened bastions, centuries old;

And here I rest,

While all the west

Grows brighter with the sunset's gold.

Far out at sea,

The ships that flee

Along the dim horizon's line

Their sails unfold

Like cloth of gold,

Transfigured by that light divine.

I shall rejoice

With heart and voice

That one such day has ever been.

J. W. Chadwick,

D

WHAT ARGUMENT?

Nor knowest thou what argument
Thy life to thy neighbor's creed hath lent.

RIFTING dreamily with the tide,

EMERSON.

Slowly away from the sunset's gold,

Leaning over our vessel's side,

We watched the sail with its drooping fold.

Southward, the slope of a summer hill,
Strewn with the fragrant new-made hay,
The horse and hay-wagon waiting still
For the finished fruit of the sunny day.

The rapid rake and the gleaming fork

Tossing its load on the growing pile ; Farmer and wife and children at work, Sharing the labor; and all the while One little maiden down on the shore, Just where the land and water meet, Wandering free till the work is o'er Chasing the waves with gleaming feet;

Singing clearly across the bay,

All unconscious of listening ear,

Simple ballads, so light and gay

We hushed our words as we leaned to hear.

Songs of our school-days long agone,
Ringing out over the sun-set sea;
Then sweet in the silvery childish tone,
The battle cry for the land of the free.

Dreamily drifting by Deer Isle,

We lay and listened with strange surprise ; Feeling a blessing of peace the while

Dropping down from the quiet skies;

Feeling our deeper life touched at its core

By the simple song of the glad child-heart; And peace in the boat and peace on the shore Were so near and yet so far apart.