ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING. After a photograph from life by Talfourd, London.

The heavy gale swept over the surge;

The corpse was cast to the wind and wave,— The convict has found in the green sea a grave.

LETITIA ELIZABETH LANDON.

HOPELESS GRIEF.

I TELL you, hopeless grief is passionless,-
That only men incredulous of despair,

Half-taught in anguish, through the midnight air
Beat upwards to God's throne in loud access
Of shrieking and reproach. Full desertness,
In souls as countries, lieth silent-bare

Under the blanching, vertical eye-glare

Of the absolute heavens. Deep-hearted man, ex

press

Grief for thy Dead in silence like to death;
Most like a monumental statue set

In everlasting watch and moveless woe,
Till itself crumble to the dust beneath.
Touch it: the marble eyelids are not wet—
If it could weep, it could arise and go.

ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING.