poet's dream!
eamlets run,
glories gleam!

,flrouciect in mystery so projouna.
The dazzling North, the stately West,
Whose rivers flow from mount to sea;
The South, flower-wreathed in languid rest,
What are they all compared with thee ?
All lands, all realms beneath yon dome,
Where God's own hand bath hung the stars,
To thee with humblest homage come,
0 world beyond the crystal bars!
Thou blest hereafter! Mortal tongue
Hath striven in vain thy speech to learn,
And fancy wanders, lost among
The flowery paths for which we yearn.
But well we know, that fair and bright
Far beyond human ken or dream,
Too glorious for our feeble sight,
Thy skies of cloudless azure beam.

We know thv

The aspirations, strong of wing,
Aiming at heights we could not reach;
The songs we tried in vain to sing;
Thoughts too vast for human speech;
Thou hast them all, Hereafter! Thou
Shalt keep them safely till that hour
When, with God's seal on heart and brow,
We claim them in immortal power !
THE PLANTING OF THE APPLE TREE.
BY WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT,
SOME, let us plant the apple-tree!
Cleave the tough greensward with the spade;
Wide let its hollow bed be made ;
There, gently lay the roots, and there
Sift the dark mold with kindly care,
And press it o'er 'them tenderly,
As round the sleeping infant's feet,
We softly fold the cradle sheet;
So plant we the apple-tree.
What plant we in this apple-tree ?
Buds, which the breath of summer days
Shall lengthen into leafy sprays ;
Boughs, where the thrush, with crimson breast,
Shall haunt, and sing, and hide her nest;
We plant, upon the sunny lea,
A shadow for the noontide hour,
A shelter from the summer shower,
When we plant the apple-tree.
What plant we in this apple-tree?
Sweets for a hundred flowery springs,
To load the May-wind's restless wings,
When, from the orchard-row, he pours
Its fragrance through our open doors;

v alley s  lie                                               I   1 . . .
xpremely blest;                        Flowers for the sick girl's silent room,
y sapphire sky                         For the glad infant sprigs of bloom,
&ks sublimely rest.                      We plant with the apple-tree.
now we catch                          What plant we in this apple-tree?
om the far-off shore,                 Fruits that shall swell in sunny June,
eyes we watch                          And redden in the August noon,
i or token more.                       And drop, as gentle airs come by,
That fan the blue September sky;
owed are there!                          While children, wild with noisy glee,
r, the good, the wise,                 Shall scent their fragrance as they pass,
erener air,                            And search for them the tufted grass
.olemn mysteries.                        At the foot of the apple-tree.
*Published originally In Harper's Magazine.