If bankers, confusing distinctions of wealth,
    Have your gold to their own pockets whirled,
  And then gone to Europe for pleasure and health—­
    It is only the way of the world.

  If preachers, forgetting the Master of old
    And the banner of light He unfurled,
  Elope with the fairest ewe-lambs of the fold,—­
    It is only the way of the world.

  If merchants, unscrupulous, cheat with a will
    While their lips are at honesty curled,—­
  Harsh blame, hie away!  And your censure, be still! 
    It is only the way of the world!

  The way of the world!  What a happy excuse
    For the faults and the follies unfurled! 
  Bind virtue securely!  The vices turn loose! 
    ’Tis the way—­’tis the way—­of the world!

MY SHADOW AND I.

  A something, not of earth or sky,
    Beside me walks the ways I go,
    And I—­I never truly know,
  If I am it or it is I.

  It soothes me with its tender speech,
    It guides me with its gentle hand,
    But I—­I can not understand
  The links that bind us each to each.

  I hear the songs of golden days
    Fall softly on the saddened years,
    But know not whose the hungry ears
  First feasted on the roundelays.

  I feel the hopes, the yearnings brave,
    Within my bosom surge and roll,
    But know not whose the Master Soul
  That called their glories from the grave.

  I see the great world’s greater curse,
    Dark struggles on through darker days,
    But know not whose the eyes that gaze
  Through all the sobbing universe.

  O, Shadow mine!  Beneath my brow
    I feel thy thoughts, and in my heart
    Thy fondest longings madly start! 
  Thou art myself and I am thou!

IN THE VALES.

  When from these vales I go,
    That slumber on in dreams,
  O, will the summer winds dance to and fro,
    And kiss the streams
  That play where roses scatter fond perfume
  And lilies burst with bloom?

  Glad children of the spring,
    They moan their music sweet
  Where tangled grasses wave, and softly sing
    Where meadows meet,
  And wildwood shadows drooping bless
  The groves with happiness.

  Their soothing songs I hear
    Among the granite hills,
  Above the elfin warbles rich and clear
    From rippling rills,
  As if they called my soul in future days
  To wander all their ways.

  Ah, moaning winds, you seem
    To fill my musing breast
  With lullabies that linger as I dream
    And bring me rest;
  For melodies from your low voices creep
  That soothe my heart with sleep!

THE WILLOW.