" in the _Nautilus_ quite to my mind.
Pray build me a mansion (for plans see below)
More stately and lofty than this that I know.
Dig deep the foundations in reason and truth;
I want no pavilion--a fortress forsooth,
Secure against windstorms of doctrine and doubt;
In style--Emersonian--inside and out.
It should, sir, be double, with rooms on each side,
For justice and mercy, for meekness and pride;
For heating and lighting, it only requires
Faith's old-fashioned candles, and Love's open fires.
Write me minimum charges in struggle and stress,
And extras in suffering.
Yours truly,
C.S.
_Kalends_.
~The Record of a Life.~
He lived and died, and all is passed away
That bound him to his so-soon-darkened day.
He is forgotten in time's sweeping tide;
This is his history: He lived--and died!
HENRY DAVID GRAY.
_Madisonensis_.
~Who Knows?~
If when the day has been sped with laughter,
Mirth and song as the light wind blows,
A sob and a sigh come quickly after--
Who knows?
If eyes that smile till the day's completeness
Droop a little at evening's close,
And tears cloud over their tender sweetness--
Who knows?
If lips that laugh while the sun be shining,
Curved as fair as the leaf of a rose,
Quiver with grief at day's declining--
Who knows?
If the heart that seems to know no aching
While the fair, gold sunlight gleams and glows,
Under the stars be bitterly breaking--
Who knows?
JESSIE V.
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