INTELLECT
Go, speed the stars of Thought
On to their shining goals;—
The sower scatters broad his seed;
The wheat thou strew'st be souls.
GIFTS
Gifts of one who loved me,—
'T was high time they came;
When he ceased to love me,
Time they stopped for shame.
PROMISE
In countless upward-striving waves
The moon-drawn tide-wave strives;
In thousand far-transplanted grafts
The parent fruit survives;
So, in the new-born millions,
