VII
Like a French poem is Life; being only perfect in structure
When with the masculine rhymes mingled the feminine are.
VIII
Down from the mountain descends the brooklet, rejoicing in
freedom;
Little it dreams of the mill hid in the valley below;
Glad with the joy of existence, the child goes singing and
laughing,
Little dreaming what toils lie in the future concealed.
IX
As the ink from our pen, so flow our thoughts and our feelings
When we begin to write, however sluggish before.
X
Like the Kingdom of Heaven, the Fountain of Youth is within us;
If we seek it elsewhere, old shall we grow in the search.
XI
If you would hit the mark, you must aim a little above it;
Every arrow that flies feels the attraction of earth.
XII
Wisely the Hebrews admit no Present tense in their language;
While we are speaking the word, it is is already the Past.
XIII
In the twilight of age all things seem strange and phantasmal,
As between daylight and dark ghost-like the landscape appears.
XIV
Great is the art of beginning, but greater the art is of ending;
Many a poem is marred by a superfluous verse.
THE CITY AND THE SEA
The panting City cried to the Sea,
"I am faint with heat,--O breathe on me!"
And the Sea said, "Lo, I breathe! but my breath
To some will be life, to others death!"
As to Prometheus, bringing ease
In pain, come the Oceanides,
So to the City, hot with the flame
Of the pitiless sun, the east wind came.
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