will as perfectly organized,

requires man. Astronomy is a cold, desert science, with all its pompous figures, - depends a little too much on the glass-grinder, too little on the mind. 'Tis of no use to show us more planets and systems. We know already what matter is, and more or less of it does not signify. He can dispose in his thought of more worlds, just as readily as of few, or one. It is his relation to one, to the first, that imports. Nay, I will say, of the two facts, the world and man, man is by much the larger half.

is a coy,

I know that the imagination capricious power, and does not impart its secret to inquisitive persons. Sometimes a parlor in which fine persons are found, with beauty, culture and sensibility, answers our purpose still better. Striking the electric chain with which we are darkly bound, but that again is Nature, and there we have again the charm which landscape gives us, in a finer form; but the persons must have had the influence of Nature, must know her simple, cheap pleasures, must know what Pindar means when he says that " water is the best of things," and have manners that speak of reality and great elements, or we shall know no Olympus.

Matter, how immensely soever enlarged by the telescope, remains the lesser half. The very science by which it is shown to you argues the force of man. Nature is vast and strong, but as soon as man knows himself as its interpreter, knows that Nature and he are from one source, and that he, when humble and obedient, is nearer to the source, then all things fly into place, then is there a rider to the horse, an organized will, then Nature has a lord.

IV

CONCORD WALKS

Nor many men see beauty in the fogs
Of close, low pine-woods in a river town;
Yet unto me not morn's magnificence
Nor the red rainbow of a summer's eve,
Nor Rome, nor joyful Paris, nor the halls
Of rich men, blazing hospitable light,

Nor wit, nor eloquence, no, nor even the song
Of any woman that is now alive,

Hath such a soul, such divine influence,
Such resurrection of the happy past,
As is to me when I behold the morn
Ope in such low, moist roadside, and beneath
Peep the blue violets out of the black loam.

THERE is no rood has not a star above it;
The cordial quality of pear or plum
Ascends as gladly in a single tree

As in broad orchards resonant with bees;
And every atom poises for itself,

And for the whole. The gentle deities
Showed me the love of color and of sounds,
The innumerable tenements of beauty,
The miracle of generative force,
Far-reaching concords of astronomy

Felt in the plants and in the punctual birds;
Better, the linked purpose of the whole.