"Unto the Day" [pp. 416]

" UVNTO THE DAY. "
py a prominent position in the literature
and history of his nation and of the
world. In the course of the long eightysix years of his life, he had taken an
active part in some of the greatest
changes that have ever revolutionized
Europe. In spite of the imperfections
that have crept into his writings, the immense store of learning he possessed,
the height to which his powerful intel
lect has soared, the fluency of his eloquence, the disinterested intent of his
public acts, the amiability of his manners, leave a deep, lasting, and honorable memory behind. And when the existence of his petty critics will be buried in merited oblivion, the knowledge
of generations to come shall contemplate
with admiration the illustrious and grand
old Frenchman, Guizot.
"UNTO THE DAY."
Shall we count the reeds at our feet,
Or the fluttering, falling leaves?
Or number the golden sheaves
Of the ripening wheat?
Reckon the gathered flowers And the moments, all too fleet?
Enough to know them ours,
To know them sweet!
Because that a cloud may lie
Over the morrow's sky,
Must we miss
The glory that shines from this?
This love that is mine to-day,
Will it go-will it stay?
Must I question-must I weigh?
Nay, love, for thou art blind!
With wings of the wind,
With speed of the morning fleet Or, fluttering to rest,
White dove to her white nest I know not, nor divine.
Enough to know thee sweet,
To know thee mine!
4i6
[Nov.