AT LIFE'S BEST.

LOOK up, and let thy nature strike on mine

Like yonder morning on the blind half-world;
Approach and fear not; breathe upon my brows;
In that fine air I tremble, all the past

Melts mist-like into this bright hour, and this
Is morn to more, and all the rich to come
Reels, as the golden Autumn woodland reels
Athwart the smoke of burning weeds. Forgive me,
I waste my heart in signs: let be. My bride,
My wife, my life. Oh, we will walk this world,
Yoked in all exercise of noble end,

And so through those dark gates across the wild
That no man knows. Indeed I love thee; come,
Yield thyself up: my hopes and thine are one:
Accomplish thou my manhood and thyself,
Lay thy sweet hands in mine, and trust to me.
ALFRED TENNYSON.

While I am I, and you are you,

So long as the world contains us both,
Me the loving and you the loth,

While the one eludes, must the other pursue.

23

LOVE IN A LIFE.

My life is at fault at last I fear

It seems too much like a fate, indeed!

Though I do my best, I shall scarce succeed; But what if I fail of my purpose here?

It is but to keep the nerves at strain,

To dry one's eyes and laugh at a fall,

And, baffled, get up to begin again,

So the chase takes up one's life, that's all. While, look but once from your furthest bound, At me so deep in the dust and dark,

No sooner the old hope drops to ground

Than a new one, straight to the self-same mark,
I shape me-

Heart, fear nothing, for, heart, thou shalt find her,
Next time, herself! — not the trouble behind her
Left in the curtain, the couch's perfume!

As she brushed it, the cornice-wreath blossomed

anew,

Yon looking-glass gleamed at the wave of her feather. Yet the day wears,

And door succeeds door;

I try the fresh fortune,

Range the wide house from the wing to the centre.
Still the same chance! she goes out as I enter.
Spend my whole day in the quest, who cares?
But 't is twilight, you see, with such suites to explore,
Such closets to search, such alcoves to importune!

ROBERT BROWNING.

LOVE AND PRUDENCE.

Do you remember that most perfect night,

D°

In the full flush of June,

When the wide heavens were tranced in silver light Of the sad, patient moon?

Silent we sat, awed by a strange unrest;

The fathomless, far sky

Our very life absorbed, our thoughts oppressed,
By its immensity.

Lost in that infinite vast, how idle seemed
The best of human speech;

Earth scarcely breathed, so silently she dreamed,
Save when from some far reach

The faint wind sighed, and stirred the slumbering

trees,

And shadowy stretch and plain

Seemed haunted by unuttered mysteries

Night on its life had lain.

We knew not what we were, or where we went,
Borne by some unseen power,

RIDING DOWN.

Nor in what dream-shaped realms our spirits spent

That long, yet brief half-hour;

I only know that, as a star from high

Slides down the ether thin,

We shot to earth, roused by a startling cry,

"You're getting cold, — come in.”

WILLIAM WETMORE STORY.

YOUR

THE AMULET.

picture smiles as first it smiled;
The ring you gave is still the same;

Your letter tells, O changing child!
No tidings since it came.

Give me an amulet

That keeps intelligence with you, -
Red when you love, and rosier red,
And when you love not, pale and blue.

Alas! that neither bonds nor vows
Can certify possession;

Torments me still the fear that love

Died in its last expression.

RALPH WALDO EMERSON.

OH

RIDING DOWN.

H, did you see him riding down,
And riding down, while all the town

Came out to see, came out to see,
And all the bells rang mad with glee?

25

Oh, did you hear those bells ring out,
The bells ring out, the people shout,
And did you hear that cheer on cheer
That over all the bells rang clear?

And did you see the waving flags,
The fluttering flags, the tattered flags,

Red, white, and blue, shot through and through,
Baptized with battle's deadly dew?

And did you hear the drum's gay beat,
The drum's gay beat, the bugles sweet,
The cymbals clash, the cannon's crash,
That rent the sky with sound and flash?

And did you see me waiting there,
Just waiting there and watching there, —
One little lass, amid the mass
That pressed to see the hero pass?

And did you see him smiling down,

And smiling down, as riding down
With slowest pace, with stately grace,
He caught the vision of a face,—

My face uplifted, red and white,
Turned red and white with sheer delight,
To meet the eyes, the smiling eyes,
Outflashing in their swift surprise?

Oh, did you see how swift it came,
How swift it came, like sudden flame,
That smile to me, to only me,

The little lass who blushed to see?