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He'll never meet

A joy so sweet In all his noon of fame As when first he sung to woman's ear

His soul-felt flame, And at every close she blushed to hear

The one loved name !

0, that hallowed form is ne'er forgot,

Which first love traced ; Still it lingering haunts the greenest spot On memory's waste !

'T was odor fled

As soon as shed ; 'T was morning's winged dream ; 'T was a light that ne'er can shine again

On life's dull stream ! O, 't was a light that ne'er can shine again

On life's dull stream !

Ah ! each sailor in the port

Knows that I have ships at sea,
Of the waves and winds the sport,

And the sailors pity me.
Oft they come and with me walk,
Cheering me with hopeful talk,
Till I put my fears aside,
And, contented, watch the tide

Rise and fall, rise and fall.
I have waited on the piers,

Gazing for them down the bay,
Days and nights for many years,

Till I turned heart-sick away.
But the pilots, when they land,
Stop and take me by the hand,
Saying, “You will live to see
Your proud vessels come from sea,

One and all, one and all."
So I never quite despair,

Nor let hope or courage fail ; And some day, when skies are fair,

Up the bay my ships will sail.
I shall buy then all I need,
Prints to look at, books to read,
Horses, wines, and works of art,
Everything - except a heart

That is lost, that is lost.
Once, when I was pure and young,

Richer, too, than I am now,
Ere a cloud was o'er me flung,

Or a wrinkle creased my brow, There was one whose heart was mine; But she's something now divine, And though come my ships from sea, They can bring no heart to me

Evermore, evermore.

THOMAS MOORE.

WHEN THE LAMP IS SHATTERED.

ROBERT STEVENSON COFFIN.

When the lamp is shattered
The light in the dust lies dead ;
When the cloud is scattered,
The rainbow's glory is shed.
When the lute is broken,
Sweet tones are remembered not ;
When the lips have spoken,
Loved accents are soon forgot.
As music and splendor
Survive not the lamp and the luto,
The heart's echoes render
No song when the spirit is mute, -
No song but sad dirges,
Like the wind through a ruined cell,
Or the mournful surges
That ring the dead seaman's knell.
When hearts have once mingled,
Love first leaves the well-built nest;
The weak one is singled
To endure what it once possessed.
O Love ! who bewailest
The frailty of all things here,
Why choose you the frailest
For your cradle, your home, and your bier ?
Its passions will rock thee
As the storms rock the ravens ou high ;
Bright reason will mock thee
Like the sun from a wintry sky.
From thy nest every rafter
Will rot, and thine eagle home
Leave thee naked to laughter,
When leaves fall and cold winds come.

LOVE'S YOUNG DREAM.

FROM "IRISH MELODIES."

O THE days are gone when beauty bright

My heart's chain wove!
When my dream of life, from morn till night,

Was love, still love !
New hope may bloom,

And days may come,
Of milder, calmer beam,
But there's nothing half so sweet in life

As love's young dream !
0, there's nothing half so sweet in life
As love's young

dream! Though the bard to purer fame may soar,

When wild youth's past; Though he win the wise, who frowned before,

To sm le at last ;

PERCY BYSHE SHELLEY

WHITTIER

As some tall pine that from a mountain side

O'erlooks a hundred verdant vales below,

And drinks their balm, and hears their waters flow,
While, o'er the lofty summits cloud-allied,
He marks the storm-king in his chariot ride,

And sees athwart the heaven's lurid glow

The thunderbolt in zig-zag splendor go.
How towers his crest, uplift in rugged pride!
But when the waning tempest dies apace,

What reed of Pan, however fine it blew,
Might sweetlier breathe out nature's inmost grace?

So standest thou within our mortal view.
What star serene is now thy dwelling place,
Great soul, high heart, O nobler than we knew ?

LOUISE A. McGAFFEY November, 1892

From Belford's Magazine, Chicago

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TAKE, O, TAKE THOSE LIPS AWAY.* | Five summers ago, when you wooed her, you

stood on the self-same plane, TAKE, 0, take those lips away,

Face to face, heart to heart, never dreaming your That so sweetly were forsworn ;

souls could be parted again. And those eyes, like break of day,

Lights that do mislead the morn; She loved you at that time entirely, in the bloom But my kisses bring again,

of her life's early May ; Seals of love, but sealed in vain.

And it is not her fault, I repeat it, that she does

not love you to-day. Hide, O, hide those hills of snow Which thy frozen bosom bears,

Nature never stands still, nor souls either: they On whose tops the pinks that grow

ever go up or go down ; Are yet of those that April wears ! And hers has been steadily soaring, - but how But first set my poor heart free,

has it been with your own ? Bound in those icy chains by thec. SHAKESPEARE and JOHN FLETCHER. She has struggled and yearned and aspired,

grown purer and wiser each year : The stars are not farther above you in yon lumi

nous atmosphere ! WHY SO PALE AND WAN ? Why so pale and wan, fond lover ?

For she whom you crowned with fresh roses, Pry thee, why so pale ?

down yonder, five summers ago, Will, when looking well can't move her,

Has learned that the first of our duties to God Looking ill prevail ?

and ourselves is to grow. Pr'y thee, why so pale ?

Her eyes they are sweeter and calmer; but their Why so dull and mute, young sinner ?

vision is clearer as well : Pr'y thee, why so mute ?

Her voice ha a tenderer cad

ce, but is pure as Will, when speaking well can't win her,

a silver bell. Saying nothing do't? Pr'y thee, why so mute ?

Her face has the look worn by those who with

God and his angels have talked : Quit, quit, for shame! this will not move, The white robes she wears are less white than This cannot take her :

the spirits with whom she has walked. If of herself she will not love, Nothing can make her :

And you? Have you aimed at the highest? Have The devil take her!

you, too, aspired and prayed ? SIR JOHN SUCKLING

Have you looked upon evil unsullied ? Have you

conquered it undismayed ?

OUTGROWN.

Have you, too, grown purer and wiser, as the

months and the years have rolled on? Nay, you wrong her, my friend, she 's not fickle ; Did you meet her this morning rejoicing in the her love she has simply outgrown :

triumph of victory won ? One can read the whole matter, translating her heart by the light of one's own.

Nay, hear me! The truth cannot harm you.

When to-day in her presence you stood, Can you bear me to talk with you frankly? There is much that my heart would say ;

Was the hand that you gave her as white and

clean as that of her womanhood ? And you know we were children together, have quarrelled and “made up” in play.

Go measure yourself by her standard. Look And so, for the sake of old friendship, I venture

back on the years that have fled ; to tell you the truth,

Then ask, if you need, why she tells you that As plainly, perhaps, and as bluntly, as I might

the love of her girlhood is dead ! in our carlier youtli.

She cannot look down to her lover : her love, • The first stanza of this song appears in Shakespeare's

like her soul, aspires; Measure for Measure, Act iv. Sc. 1.; the same, with the second He must stand by her side, or above her, who

would kindle its holy fires.

stanza added. is found in Beaumont and Fletcher's Bloody Brother, Act v. Sc. 4.

FROM "THE LIGHT OF THE HAREM."

Now farewell! For the sake of old friendship Of all the operas that Verdi wrote,

I have ventured to tell you the truth, The best, to my taste, is the Trovatore; As plainly, perhaps, and as bluntly, as I might And Mario can soothe, with a tenor note, in our earlier youth.

The souls in purgatory.
JULIA C. R. DORR.

The moon on the tower slept soft as snow;

And who was not thrilled in the strangest way, ALAS! HOWLIGHT A CAUSE MAY MOVE.

As we heard him sing, while the gas burned low,

Non ti scordar di me"? Alas! how light a cause may move

The emperor there, in his box of state, Dissension between hearts that love !

Looked grave, as if he had just then seen Hearts that the world in vain has tried,

The red flag wave from the city gate,
And sorrow but more closely tied ;

Where his eagles in bronze had been.
That stood the storm when waves were rough,
Yet in a sunny hour fall off,

The empress, too, had a tear in her eye :

You'd have said that her fancy had gone back Like ships that have gone down at sea, When heaven was all tranquillity!

again,

For one moment, under the old blue sky, A something light as air, - a look,

To the old glad life in Spain. A word unkind or wrongly taken, 0, love that tempests never shook,

Well! there in our front-row box we sat A breath, a touch like this has shaken!

Together, my bride betrothed and I; And ruder words will soon rush in

My gaze was fixed on my opera hat, To spread the breach that words begin ;

And hers on the stage hard by.
And eyes forget the gentle ray

And both were silent, and both were sad ;
They wore in courtship's smiling day;
And voices lose the tone that shed

Like a queen she leaned on her full white arm,

With that regal, indolent air she had ;
A tenderness round all they said ;

So confident of her charm !
Till fast declining, one by one,
The sweetnesses of love are gone,

I have not a doubt she was thinking then
And hearts, so lately mingled, seem

Of her former lord, good soul that he was, Like broken clouds, - or like the stream,

Who died the richest and roundest of men, That smiling left the mountain's brow,

The Marquis of Carabas.
As though its waters ne'er could sever,
Yet, ere it reach the plain below,

I hope that, to get to the kingdom of heaven, Breaks into floods that part forever.

Through a needle's eye he had not to pass ;

I wish him well for the jointure given
O you, that have the charge of Love,
Keep him in rosy bondage bound,

To my lady of Carabas.
As in the Fields of Bliss above

Meanwhile, I was thinking of my first love He sits, with flowerets fettered round;

As I had not been thinking of aught for years ; Loose not a tie that round him clings,

Till over my eyes there began to move Nor ever let him use his wings ;

Something that felt like tears. For even an hour, a minute's flight Will rob the plumes of half their light. I thought of the dress that she wore last time, Like that celestial bird, — whose nest

When we stood 'neath the cypress-trees together, Is found beneath far Eastern skies,

In that lost land, in that soft clime, Whose wings, though radiant when at rest, In the crimson evening weather; Lose all their glory when he flies !

Of that muslin dress (for the eve was hot);

And her warm white neck in its golden chain ; AUX ITALIENS.

And her full soft hair, just tied in a knot,

And falling loose again ; At Paris it was, at the opera there ; And she looked like a queen in a book that And the jasmine flower in her fair young breast; night,

(O the faint, sweet smell of that jasnuine flower!) With the wreath of pearl in her raven hair, And the one bird singing alone to his nest ;

And the brooch on her breast so bright. And the one star over the tower.

THOMAS MOORE.

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