These things shall be! A loftier race Than e'er the world has known, shall rise

With flame of freedom in their souls,

And light of science in their eyes.

They shall be gentle, brave, and strong,
To spill no drop of blood, but dare
All that may plant man's lordship firm
On earth and fire and sea and air.

Nation with nation, land with land

Inarmed shall live as comrades free; In every heart and brain shall throb

The pulse of one fraternity.

They shall be simple in their homes,

And splendid in their public ways, Filling the mansions of the state

With music and with hymns of praise.

Woman shall be man's mate and peer
In all things strong and fair and good,
Still wearing on her brows the crown
Of sinless sacred motherhood.

High friendship, hitherto unknown, Or by great poets half divined, Shall burn, a steadfast star, within

The calm clear ether of the mind.

Man shall love man with heart as pure And fervent as the young-eyed joys Who chant their heavenly songs before God's face, with undiscordant noise.

New arts shall bloom, of loftier mould; And mightier music thrill the skies; And every life shall be a song,

When all the earth is paradise.

There shall be no more sin, no shame, Though pain and passion may not die; For man shall be at one with God

In bonds of firm necessity.

These things (they are no dream) shall be For happier men when we are gone:

Those golden days for them shall dawn, Transcending aught we gaze upon.

ELLEN MACKAY HUTCHINSON.

[U. s. A.]

A CRY FROM THE SHORE.

COME down, ye graybeard mariners, Unto the wasting shore! - the gods

The morning winds are up,

Bid me to dream no more. Come, tell me whither I must sail What peril there may be, Before I take my life in hand

And venture out to sea!

"We may not tell thee where to sail,
Nor what the dangers are;
Each sailor soundeth for himself;
Each hath a separate star:

Each sailor soundeth for himself,
And on the awful sea

What we have learned is ours alone;
We may not tell it thee."

Come back, O ghostly mariners,
Ye who have gone before!
I dread the dark, impetuous tides;
I dread the farther shore.
Tell me the secret of the waves!
Say what my fate shall be
Quick! for the mighty winds are up,
And will not wait for me.