Nothing New

From the dawn of till the year grow hoary Nothmg is new that is done or said ; The leaves are telling the ame old story ¦ "Building, bursting, dying, dead," ' And even and always the wíld wind's churus, Is "coming, building, rlying, ried." Never the round earth roams or ranges Out of the circuit so old, so old ; And the stnile o' the sun knows but these changes : Beaming, burning, tender, cold, As spring-time softens or winter estranges The mighty heart of this orb of gold. From our great-sire's birth tothe last morn's breaklng 1 here was tempest, sunshine, fruit and f rost. And the sea was calm, or the sea was shaking His mighty mane like a lion crossed And ever this cry the heart was making : "Longing, loving, losing, lost" Forever the wild wind wanders, crying, Southerly. easterly, north and weit; And one worn song the fields are sighing : "Sowing, growing, harvest, rest." And the lired thought of the world replying Like an echo to what is last and best, Murmurs "rest."