“He that wants faith, and apprehends a grief
     Because he wants it, hath a true belief;
     And he that grieves because his grief’s so small,
     Has a true grief, and the best Faith of all.”

Or be encouraged by this other poet’s strain,—­

     “By them went Fido marshal of the field: 
     Weak was his mother when she gave him day;
     And he at first a sick and weakly child,
     As e’er with tears welcomed the sunny ray;
     Yet when more years afford more growth and might,
     A champion stout he was, and puissant knight,
     As ever came in field, or shone in armor bright.

     “Mountains he flings in seas with mighty hand;
     Stops and turns back the sun’s impetuous course;
     Nature breaks Nature’s laws at his command;
     No force of Hell or Heaven withstands his force;
     Events to come yet many ages hence,
     He present makes, by wondrous prescience;
     Proving the senses blind by being blind to sense.”

“Yesterday, at dawn,” says Hafiz, “God delivered me from all worldly affliction; and amidst the gloom of night presented me with the water of immortality.”

In the life of Sadi by Dowlat Shah occurs this sentence:  “The eagle of the immaterial soul of Shaikh Sadi shook from his plumage the dust of his body.”

Thus thoughtfully we were rowing homeward to find some autumnal work to do, and help on the revolution of the seasons.  Perhaps Nature would condescend to make use of us even without our knowledge, as when we help to scatter her seeds in our walks, and carry burrs and cockles on our clothes from field to field.

     All things are current found
     On earthly ground,
     Spirits and elements
     Have their descents.

     Night and day, year on year,
     High and low, far and near,
     These are our own aspects,
     These are our own regrets.

     Ye gods of the shore,
     Who abide evermore,
     I see your far headland,
     Stretching on either hand;

     I hear the sweet evening sounds
     From your undecaying grounds;
     Cheat me no more with time,
     Take me to your clime.

As it grew later in the afternoon, and we rowed leisurely up the gentle stream, shut in between fragrant and blooming banks, where we had first pitched our tent, and drew nearer to the fields where our lives had passed, we seemed to detect the hues of our native sky in the southwest horizon.  The sun was just setting behind the edge of a wooded hill, so rich a sunset as would never have ended but for some reason unknown to men, and to be marked with brighter colors than ordinary in the scroll of time.  Though the shadows of the hills were beginning to steal over the stream, the whole river valley undulated with mild light, purer and more memorable than the noon.  For so day bids farewell even to solitary vales uninhabited