MAN AND NATURE.

A sad man on a summer day

Did look upon the earth and say —

“Purple cloud the hill-top binding;

Folded hills the valleys wind in;

Valleys with fresh streams among you;

Streams with bosky trees along you;

Trees with many birds and blossoms;

Birds with music-trembling bosoms;

Blossoms dropping dews that wreathe you

To your fellow flowers beneath you;

Flowers that constellate on earth;

Earth that shakest to the mirth

Of the merry Titan Ocean,

All his shining hair in motion!

Why am I thus the only one

Who can be dark beneath the sun?”

But when the summer day was past,

He looked to heaven and smiled at last,

Self-answered so —

“Because, O cloud,

Pressing with thy crumpled shroud

Heavily on mountain top,—

Hills that almost seem to drop

Stricken with a misty death

To the valleys underneath,—

Valleys sighing with the torrent,—

Waters streaked with branches horrent,—

Branchless trees that shake your head

Wildly o'er your blossoms spread

Where the common flowers are found,—

Flowers with foreheads to the ground,—

Ground that shriekest while the sea

With his iron smiteth thee —

I am, besides, the only one

Who can be bright without the sun.”