Careless he greets her day by day,
Nor thinks of words once said,
Oh, would that love could live again,
Or her heart give up its dead!

HEART-ORACLES.

'Is this the cruel sea?" I thought, The merciless, the awful sea ?"Now hear the answer soft and true, That rippled over the beach to me:

"Shall not the sea, in the sun, be glad

When a child doth come to play?

sunbeam is slanting; Through the hindering stones, speaks the soul of the brook; Past the rustle of leaves we press into the stillness;

Through darkness and void to the
Pleiads we look;

One bird-note at dawn with the nightsilence o'er us,

Begins all the morning's munificent chorus.

Through sorrow come glimpses of infinite gladness;

Through grand discontent mounts the spirit of youth;

Loneliness foldeth a wonderful loving;

The breakers of Doubt lead the great tide of Truth:

And dread and grief-haunted the shadowy portal

That shuts from our vision the splendor immortal.

THE CHILD AND THE SEA.

ONE summer day, when birds flew high,

I saw a child step into the sea;
It glowed and sparkled at her touch
And softly plashed about her
knee.

It held her lightly with its strength,
It kissed and kissed her silken hair;
It swayed with tenderness to know
A little child was in its care.

She, gleeful, dipped her pretty arms, And caught the sparkles in her hands;

I heard her laughter, as she soon

Came skipping up the sunny sands.

could I,

WHAT SHE THOUGHT.

MARION showed me her wedding

gown

And her veil of gossamer lace tonight,

And the orange-blooms that to-mor

row morn

Marion stooped one day to kiss A beggar's babe with a tender grace;

While some sweet thought, like a prophecy,

Looked from her pure Madonna face.

light.

To-morrow will be your wedding

day,

And you, in the radiant sunset glow Down fragrant flowery paths will stray,

As Marion does this blessed night, With Philip, lost in a blissful dream.

Can she feel his heart through the silence beat?

Does he see her eyes in the starlight gleam?

Questioning thus, my days go on;

But never an answer comes to me: All love's mysteries, sweet as strange, Sealed away from my life must be. Yet still I dream, O heart of mine!

Of a beautiful city that lies afar; And there, some time, I shall drop the mask,

And be shapely and fair as others

are.

AT THE LAST.

WILL the day ever come, I wonder, When I shall be glad to know That my hands will be folded under

The next white fall of the snow? To know that when next the clover Wooeth the wandering bee, Its crimson tide will drift over All that is left of me?

Shall I ever be tired of living, And be glad to go to my rest, With a cool and fragrant lily Asleep on my silent breast?

What need have the stars to shine on ?

Or the clouds to grow red in the west,

When the sun, like a king, from the fields he has won,

Goes grandly to rest?

No brighter they than stars and skies That greeted Eve's sweet, wondering eyes!

What need has the eagle to soar

So proudly straight up to the sun? Or the robin such jubilant music to pour

When day is begun ?

The eagles soared, the robins sung, As high, as sweet, when earth was

young!

Is he yet but a babe ? or has he grown To be like his brothers, fair and tall,

With a clear bright eye, and a springing step,

And a voice that rings like a bugle call?

I loved him. The rose in his waxen hand

Was wet with the dew of my falling tears;

I have kept the thought of my baby's

grave Through all the length of these changeful years.