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Better to love than be beloved,
Though lonely all the day; Better the fountain in the heart,
Than the fountain by the way.
Better a feeble love to God,
Than for woman's love to pine ; Better to have the making God
Than the woman made divine.
Better be fed by mother's hand,
Than eat alone at will;
My goods my storehouse fill.
Better to be a little wise
Than learned overmuch;
For truthful thoughts are such.
Better than thrill a listening crowd,
Sit at a wise man's feet;
To make thyself complete.
Better to walk the realm unseen,
Than watch the hour's event;
Than the voice of men's consent.
Better to have a quiet grief
Than a tumultuous joy;
If the heart be of a boy.
Better the thanks of one dear heart,
Than a nation's voice of praise ;
Than yesterday's mid-blaze.
Better a death when work is done,
Than earth's most favoured birth ;
Than the king of all the earth.
GEORGE Mac DONALD.
AN must be pleased ; but him to please
Is woman's pleasure ; down the gulf
Of his condoled necessities
Her heart to an icicle or whim,
Another, not from her, but him ; While she, too gentle e'en to force
His penitence by kind replies, Waits by, expecting his remorse,
With pardon in her pitying eyes ;
A comfortable word confers,
And seems to think the sin was hers ;
THE WIFE'S TRAGEDY.
And whilst his love has any life,
Or any eye to see her charms,
Dearly devoted to his arms;
And when, ah, woe! she loves alone,
As grass grows taller round a stone.
E that from dross would win the precious ore,
Bends o’er the crucible with earnest eye,
The subtle, searching process to explore, Lest the one brilliant moment should pass by, When in the molten silver's virgin mass He meets his pictured face, as in a glass.
Thus in God's furnace are His people tried ;
Thrice happy they who to the end endure; But who the fiery trial may
abide ! Who from the crucible come forth so pure That He whose eyes of flame look through the
whole, May see His image perfect in the soul ?