So I am watching quietly
      Every day. 
  Whenever the sun shines brightly,
      I rise and say: 
  “Surely it is the shining of his face!”
      And look unto the gates of his high place
      Beyond the sea;
  For I know he is coming shortly
      To summon me. 
  And when a shadow falls across the window
      Of my room,
  Where I am working my appointed task,
  I lift my head to watch the door, and ask
      If he is come;
  And the angel answers sweetly
      In my home: 
  “Only a few more shadows,
      And he will come.”

BARBARA MILLER MACANDREW.

* * * * *

EUTHANASIA.

  Methinks, when on the languid eye
    Life’s autumn scenes grow dim;
  When evening’s shadows veil the sky;
    And pleasure’s siren hymn
  Grows fainter on the tuneless ear,
  Like echoes from another sphere,
    Or dreams of seraphim—­
  It were not sad to cast away
  This dull and cumbrous load of clay.

  It were not sad to feel the heart
    Grow passionless and cold;
  To feel those longings to depart
    That cheered the good of old;
  To clasp the faith which looks on high,
  Which fires the Christian’s dying eye,
    And makes the curtain-fold
  That falls upon his wasting breast,
  The door that leads to endless rest.

  It seems not lonely thus to lie
    On that triumphant bed,
  Till the pure spirit mounts on high
    By white-winged seraphs led: 
  Where glories, earth may never know,
  O’er “many mansions” lingering glow,
    In peerless lustre shed. 
  It were not lonely thus to soar
  Where sin and grief can sting no more.

  And though the way to such a goal
    Lies through the clouded tomb,
  If on the free, unfettered soul
    There rest no stains of gloom,
  How should its aspirations rise
  Far through the blue unpillared skies,
    Up to its final home,
  Beyond the journeyings of the sun,
  Where streams of living waters run!

WILLIS GAYLORD CLARK.

* * * * *

THE LAST MAN.

  All worldly shapes shall melt in gloom,
  The Sun himself must die,
  Before this mortal shall assume
    Its immortality! 
  I saw a vision in my sleep,
  That gave my spirit strength to sweep
    Adown the gulf of time! 
  I saw the last of human mould
  That shall creation’s death behold,
    As Adam saw her prime!

  The sun’s eye had a sickly glare,
  The skeletons of nations were
    Around that lonely man! 
  Some had expired in fight,—­the brands
  Still rusted in their bony hands,
    In plague and famine some! 
  Earth’s cities had no sound nor tread;
  And ships were drifting with the dead
    To shores where all was dumb!