HENRY KING

Stay for me there : I will not fail

To meet thee in that hollow vale.

And think not much of my delay :

I am already on the way,

And follow thee with all the speed

Desire can make, or sorrows breed.

Each minute is a short degree

And every hour a step towards thee. . . .

'Tis true with shame and grief I yield- Thou, like the van, first took'st the field; And gotten hast the victory In thus adventuring to die Before me, whose more years might crave A just precedence in the grave. But hark ! my pulse, like a soft drum, Beats my approach, tells thee I come; And slow howe'er my marches be I shall at last sit down by thee.

The thought of this bids me go on And wait my dissolution With hope and comfort. Dear forgive The crime I am content to live Divided, with but half a heart, Till we shall meet and never part.

��GEORGE HERBERT . Virtue

CWEET day, so cool, so calm, so bright! ^ The bridal of the earth and sky The dew shall weep thy fall to-night;

For thou must die. ago

�� �