Of these—the deep spiritual graces

Which give unto life its divine, Transform with miraculous touches The water of being to wine,

And quicken the sap of the human

Till the drear places blossom and shine—

She has crystalline caskets and coffers,
With broad open lips to receive
The silent ineffable helpings

God's angels are gladdened to give,
Beyond half the diademed princes,

And millionaired monarchs who live.

And something about her most subtly
Reminds me of daisies and birds:
Of smells of mown hay in the meadows,
Of sweet tunes to beautiful words;
And of one who clung close to my bosom,
Before she was clasped to the Lord's.

Thus being so minded and bettered,
Because of the claims she has brought;
The rest to my trouble of spirit,

The peace to the ache in my thought,
And the cooing of doves in the passions
Where devils have wrestled and wrought.

All paths which the lady may travel,
My blessings shall conquer; that so
No roughness may bruise her, no waters
Be bitter or brackish with woe,

While the blue heavens brood softly above her,

And the grass groweth greenly below.

RICHARD REALF.

MAUD AND MADGE.

201

Maud and Madge.

HEY sat and combed their beautiful hair,

THEY

Their long bright tresses, one by one,

As they laughed and talked in their chamber there, After the revel was done.

Idly they talked of waltz and quadrille,
Idly they laughed like other girls,
Who over the fire, when all is still,

Comb out their braids and curls.

Robes of satin and Brussels lace,
Knots of flowers, and ribbons, too,
Scattered about in every place,

For the revel is through.

And Maud and Madge in robes of white,
The prettiest night-gowns under the sun,
Stockingless, slipperless, sit in the night,
For the revel is done :-

Sit and comb their beautiful hair,

Those wonderful waves of brown and gold,
Till the fire is out in the chamber there,
And the little bare feet are cold:

Then out of the gathering winter chill,
All out of the bitter St. Agnes weather,
While the fire is out and the house is still,
Maud and Madge together,-

Maud and Madge in robes of white,

The prettiest night-gowns under the sun,
Curtained away from the chilly night,
After the revel is done

Float along in a splendid dream,

To a golden gittern's tinkling tune, While a thousand lusters shimmering stream In a palace's grand saloon,

Flashing of jewels and flutter of laces,
Tropical odors sweeter than musk,
Men and women with beautiful faces,
And eyes of tropical dusk.

And one face shining out like a star,
One face haunting the dreams of each,
And one voice, sweeter than others are,
Breaking in silvery speech;

Telling through lips of bearded bloom
An old, old story over again,
As down the royal bannered room,
To the golden gittern's strain,

Two and two they dreamily walk,
While an unseen spirit walks beside,
And, all unheard in the lover's talk,
He claimeth one for his bride.

O Maud and Madge, dream on together,
With never a pang of jealous fear!
For, ere the bitter St. Agnes weather
Shall whiten another year,

Robed for the bridal and robed for the tomb, Braided brown hair and golden tress, There'll be only one of you left for the bloom Of the bearded lips to press.

Only one for the bridal pearls,

The robe of satin and Brussels lace

Only one to blush through her curls
At the sight of a lover's face.

TIME'S CHANGES.

O beautiful Madge, in your bridal white!
For you the revel has just begun;

But for her who sleeps in your arms to-night

The revel of Life is done!

203

But robed and crowned with your saintly bliss,
Queen of Heaven and bride of the sun,

O beautiful Maud, you'll never miss

The kisses another hath won!

NORA PERRY.

I

Time's Changes:

SAW her once-so freshly fair,

That like a blossom just unfolding,

She opened to life's cloudless air,

And Nature joyed to view its moulding:
Her smile,it haunts my memory yet ;
Her cheek's fine hue divinely glowing;
Her rosebud mouth, her eyes of jet,
Around on all their light bestowing.
Oh, who could look on such a form,
So nobly free, so softly tender,
And darkly dream that earthly storm

Should dim such sweet, delicious splendor?

For in her mien, and in her face,

And in her young step's fairy lightness,

Nought could the raptured gazer trace
But Beauty's glow and Pleasure's brightness.

I saw her twice-an altered charm,

But still of magic richest, rarest,

Than girlhood's talisman less warm,
Though yet of earthly sights the fairest;

Upon her breast she held a child,

The very image of its mother, Which ever to her smiling smiled—

They seemed to live but in each other. But matron cares or lurking woe

Her thoughtless, sinless look had banished, And from her cheeks the roseate glow

Of girlhood's balmy morn had vanished; Within her eyes, upon her brow,

Lay something softer, fonder, deeper,
As if in dreams some visioned woe
Had broke the Elysium of the sleeper.

I saw her thrice-Fate's dark decree

In widow's garments had arrayed her;
Yet beautiful she seemed to be

As even my reveries portrayed her;
The glow, the glance, had passed away,
The sunshine and the sparkling glitter-

Still, though I noted pale decay,

The retrospect was scarcely bitter;
For, in their place a calmness dwelt,
Serene, subduing, soothing, holy,
In feeling which, the bosom felt

That every louder mirth is folly-
A pensiveness, which is not grief;
A stillness, as of sunset streaming

A fairy glow on flower and leaf,

Till earth looks like a landscape dreaming.

A last time--and unmoved she lay,
Beyond Life's dim, uncertain river,
A glorious mould of fading clay,

From whence the spark had fled forever!
I gazed-my heart was like to burst-
And, as I thought of years departed-
The years wherein I saw her first,

When she, a girl, was lightsome-hearted—