Each thread combining with the other threads

Fulfills its office in the labyrinth;

Each link concatenates the other links

Which constitute the vast and endless chain

Of human life, and human destiny,—

The strange phantasmagoria of fate.

So we, in life's procession, pass along

To the accompaniment of secret dirge,

Or laughter interspersed with tear and groan;

Nor pause a moment, nor retrace a step,

But march in Fate's spectacular review

In pageant to our common goal—

The Grave.

 

Nature's Lullaby. 

In forest shade my couch is made.

And there I calmly lie,

With thought confined in pensive mind,

And contemplate the sky;

I wonder if the frowning cliff,

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