Thou art of all the very maid

A brave heart wants to woo, And I'll remember long," I said, "The way I walk with you."

Then on we went. Her laughing eyes
And sunny smiles were sweet.
Above us blue and burnished skies,
And roses 'neath our feet.

"I'm glad your sunny face I've seen,"
I said, "When life is through,
I'll own the best of it has been
The way I walked with you."

And on we went; we watched the day
Into the darkness merge;

My fair companion paused to say,

"Here's where our paths diverge." I answered: "Yes, and one more mile Is fading from our view,

And all the while lit by your smile
This way I've walked with you.

"I do not say my love, my life,

Will all be given to grief

When you are gone; the ceaseless strife

Will bring me much relief.

When death's cold hand the curtain draws,

When life's long journey's through,

"Twill not have all been bad, because

I came part way with you."

NEARER MY GOD AND THEE.

Go make your mark far above me,

Near the top of the temple of fame;

Say you'll endeavor to love me,

When there I have written my name. Think not of the hearts that have fainted While striving for what I would be;

For I shall be better for striving,

And nearer my God, and thee.

No burden could be too heavy,

No task ever seem too great;

No journey too long or too lonely,
No hour too early or late;

For my matchless love would be thriving
On the hope of the bliss to be,

And I should be better for striving,
And nearer my God, and thee.

All the long way from noontime till midnight,
And back from the midnight till noon,
By the bright light of love I'd be toiling,
And hoping the end would be soon.
And when time of hope had bereft me,
Tossed wildly on life's troubled sea,

I should know that the struggle had left me
Still nearer my God, and thee.

THE FLIGHT OF THE FLYER.

Near where the hill-girt Hudson lay,

Down the steel track the engineer Reined his swift steed at close of day, As, leaping like a frightened deer, At each wild surge she seemed to say: Away! Away! Away! Away!

The slow team toiling up the hill,

The light boat drifting with the breeze, The swiftest trains seemed standing still. Red vines were twining round the trees, Whose leaves made golden by the frost Gained more of lustre than they lost.

The trackman tamping up the rail,

Felt the perfume of dying flowers;

The shadows lengthened in the vale;

And watchmen watched from out the towers

The little cloud of dust behind,

As we went whistling down the wind.

Night's curtain falls; and here and there

The housewife lights the evening lamp;

And where the fields are cold and bare
His fire is kindled by the tramp.

Down through the midnight, dark and deep,
The world goes by us, fast asleep.

Up through the morning, on and on!
The red sun rising from the sea,
As we go quivering through the dawn,
Lights up the earth, reveals to me
In the first ruddy flush of morn,

The golden pumpkins in the corn.

From east to west, from shore to shore,

The black steed tramples through the night, And with a mighty rush and roar

Breaks through the dawn; and in their flight, Wild birds, bewildered by the train,

Dash dead against the window pane.

"Be swift," I cried, "Oh, matchless steed, The world is watching, do your best !" With quick and ever quickening speed,

The hot fire burning in her breast, With flowing mane and proud neck bent, She laughed across the Continent.

Mary Sylvester Paden.

"MY BOY."

They will crown thee with white lilies, They will bind them round thy brow; To thy noble, fearless spirit

All in fear and love shall bow.

They will crown thee with white lilies,
Pure as thine own boyish heart;
Thou wilt ne'er know pain or sorrow;
Thou and they be far apart.

They will crown thee with the laurel.
In the lofty paths of fame,
Wisdom's seven-pillared temple,

Proudest, noblest be thy name.
And the hearts of men shall tremble

As tho' pierced with sharpest lance, When thou read'st their hidden secrets

With thy deep eyes' searching glance.

They will place the classic bay wreath
On thy noble brow, my boy;
Thou wilt move god-like among them,
Thou wilt be thy Nation's joy.
And these tokens of thy victories

Thou wilt bring them all to me,
And will kneeling say, "My Mother,
I have won all these for thee."