Pa

UT what was before us we know

not,

And we know not what shall
succeed.

Haply the river of Time-
As it grows, as the towns on its

marge

Fling their wavering lights
On a wider, statelier stream-
May acquire, if not the calm
Of its early mountainous shore,
Yet a solemn peace of its own.
And the width of the waters, the hush
Of the gray expanse where he floats,
Freshening its current and spotted with foam
As it draws to the Ocean, may strike
Peace to the soul of the man on its breast-
As the pale waste widens around him,
As the banks fade dimmer away,

As the stars come out, and the night-wind
Brings on the stream

Murmurs and scents of the infinite sea.

MATTHEW ARNOLD.

TANER MAR -2 1943