VICTOR HUGO.

He set the trumpet to his lips, and lo!

The clash of waves, the roar of winds that blow,

The strife and stress of Nature's warring things,

Rose like a storm-cloud, upon angry wings.

He set the reed-pipe to his lips, and lo!

The wreck of landscape took a rosy glow,

And Life, and Love, and gladness that Love brings

Laughed in the music, like a child that sings.

Master of each, Arch-Master! We that still

Wait in the verge and outskirt of the Hill

Look upward lonely — lonely to the height

Where thou has climbed, for ever, out of sight!