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XVII.

THE VOICE IN THE SNOW.

1.

WE are the fairies of the Snow,

Hushing sweet hearts where'er we go !—

Our gentle motion from the skies

Has voiceless music for the eyes,
And with that music unaware

We stir the grey and wintry air,

And, mirror'd in the eyes, we roll

With thought-like glamour to the Soul!

2.

We are the fairies of the Snow,

Hushing the heart where'er we go!—

We paint the earth in winter hours With stainless pictures of the flowers, We kiss the dark earth till it grows

A silver cloud of pure repose,

Till nature's troublous yearning sense Hushes itself to reverence!

3.

We are the fairies of the Snow,
Hushing the heart where'er we go !—
We weave with fleecy fingers sweet
The dying Winter's winding-sheet,
We whisper comfort while we place
Our parting kisses on his face,
And leave upon the face we press

Pale signs of unborn loveliness!

4.

We are the fairies of the Snow,

Working for weal where'er we go!

We warm the quick'ning babe of spring Under a silken carpeting,

And darkening in fleecy flocks

We seek the roots of trees and rocks

And blowing thence, in summer hours, We are the fairies of the Flowers!

XVIII.

METEMPSYCHOSIS.

1.

I DISTINCTLY remember (and who dares doubt me?)

An

Having been (now, I care not who believes!)

ape with a forest around about me-
Prodigious trees and enormous leaves,
Great bulks of flowers, gigantic grasses,
Boughs that bent not to any gale:
And thence, I date my contempt for Asses,

And my deep respect for the Devil's Tail!

2.

I shall never forget the exquisite feeling

Of elevation, sans thought, sans care,

When I twisted my tail round the wood's bough

ceiling,

And swung, meditatively, in the air.— There's an advantage!-Fairer shapes can Aspire, yearn upward, tremble and glow, But, by means of their posteriority, apes can Look down on aspirants that walk below!

3.

There was a life for a calm philosopher,

Self-supplied with jacket, and trousers, and socks,

Nothing to learn, no hopes to get cross over,

A head that resisted the hardest knocks,

Liquor and meat in serene fruition,

A random income from taxes free,

No cares at all, and but one ambition—

To swing by the Tail to the bough of a tree!

4.

Whence I firmly believe, to the consternation

Of puppies who think monkeyosophy sin,

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