A Handful Of Earth

Here is a problem, a wonder for all to see. Look at, this marvellous thing 1 ho!d in mv hand! This is a magie surprising, a mystery Strange as a miracle, harder to understand. What is it? only a handful ofearth; to your A dry-rough powder you trample beneath your feet, Dark and lifeless; but think, for a moment, how much , , , It hides and holds that is beautiful, bitter or sweet. Think of the glory of color! The red of the Green of the myriad ieaves and the fields Yellow as bright as the sun where the t'affodil blows, Purple wbere violeta nod as the breezes pass. Think of the nianifold form of the oak and the vine, Nut, and fruit, and cluster, and ears of corn; Of the anchorefl watfr-lüy, a tbing divine, Unfolding lts dazzling snow to the kiss of mom. Think of the delicate perfumes bofne on the gale, Of the golden willow catkin's odor of Spring, Of the breath ol the rich narcissus waxenOf the sweet pea's flight of flowers, of the nettle's sting. Strange that this lifeless thing gives vine flower, tree, Color and shape and character, fragrance, too, That the timber that butlds the house, the snip for the sea, Out of this powder lts strength and its toughness drew! That thecocoa among thepalms should suck its milk From this dry dust, while dates from the self-same soil Summon their sweet, rich fruit; that our shining silk The mulberry leaves should yield to ue worm's slow toil. How should the poppy steal sleep from the very source , , That grants to the grape-vine juice that can madden or cheer? How does the weed flnd food for its fabric course Where the lilies proud their blossoms pure uprear? Who shall compassor fathom God'sthought profound? We can but praise, for we may not understand; But theres no more beautiful riddle thB whole world round Than is hid in this heap of dust I hold in my hand.