183 NOW Rise! for the day is passing, And you lie dreaming on; The others have buckled their armor Each one has some part to play— The past and the future are nothing In the face of the stern to-day. Rise from your dreams of the future, Of gaining some hard-fought field, Of storming some air fortress, Of bidding some giant yield; Your future has deeds of glory, Of honor God grant it may! But your arm will never be stronger, Or the need so great as to-day. Rise! if the past detains you, Her sunshine and storms forget; No claims so unworthy to hold you As those of vain regret; Sad or bright, she is lifeless forever,— Rise! for the day is passing! The low sound that you scarcely hear Stay not to sharpen your weapons, When from dreams of a coming battle, ADELAIDE ANN PROCTOR 184 RANSOM All men must give some hostage unto Fate On whom kind Death all tenderly doth wait To take his treasure. Larger swells the fee He counts to Fortune from whom Love doth flee, Or change unto the scowling brows of Hate. More sad, alas! his deeply mournful lot Whose hand the clasp of Friendship hath forgot; But costliest price of all the soul must pay, Which for some lure of earthly power or pride Hath cast its heritage of Heaven aside, And for such gaud hath given itself away. MARY ELIZABETH BLAKE 185 A NAME IN THE SAND Alone I walked the ocean strand, And so, methought, 'twill shortly be Will sweep across the place And yet, with Him who counts the sands, Inscribed against my name; Of all this mortal part has wrought, HANNAH FLAGG GOULD 186 DIFFERENT MINDS Some murmur when their sky is clear If one small speck of dark appear In their great heaven of blue; One ray of God's good mercy, gild In palaces are hearts that ask Such rich provision made. RICHARD CHEVENIX TRENCH 187 THE CAMEL'S NOSE Once in his shop a workman wrought, Since no denial word was said, In came the nose, in came the head; The long and scraggy neck came next; Aghast the owner gazed around, For in this place I choose to stay." O youthful hearts to gladness born, Lend neither ear, nor glance, nor smile; LYDIA H. SIGOURNEY 188 SUPPOSE Suppose the little cowslip Should hang its golden cup, And say, "I'm such a tiny flower, |