TO FANNIE IN A BALL DRESS.

THOU hast braided thy dark flowing hair,
And wreathed it with rosebuds and pearls,
But, dearer, neglected thy sweet tresses are,
Soft falling in natural curls!

Thou delightest the cold world's gaze,

When crowned with the flower and the gem,
But thy lover's smile should be dearer praise,
Than the incense thou prizest from them.

And gay is the playful tone,

As to flattery's voice thou respondest,

But what is the praise of the cold and unknown,
To the tender blame of the fondest?

John Everett.

S there anything in life so lovely and poetical as the laugh and merriment of a young girl, who still in harmony with all her powers, sports with you in luxuriant freedom, and in her mirthfulness neither despises nor dislikes? Her gravity is seldom as innocent as her playfulness; still less that haughty discontent which converts the youthful Psyche into a dull, thick, buzzing, wing-drooping night-moth. Never fear that feminine playfulness will exclude depth of character and sensibility. Let then the laughter-loving creatures giggle on at one another, and especially at the first clumsy make-game wight who comes among them, even should he be the writer of this paragraph!

Jean Paul.

I was glad that day

The June was in me;

I felt so young, so strong, so sure of God!

E. B. Browning.

MAIDENHOOD

MAIDEN! with the meek, brown eyes,

In whose orbs a shadow lies

Like the dusk in evening skies!

Bear a lily in thy hand;

Gates of brass cannot withstand

One touch of that magic wand.

Bear through sorrow, wrong, and ruth;
In thy heart the dew of youth,
On thy lips the smile of truth.

Oh, that dew, like balm, shall steal
Into wounds that cannot heal,
Even as sleep our eyes doth seal;

And that smile, like sunshine, dart
Into many a sunless heart,

For a smile of God thou art.

H. W. Longfellow.

LIFE IS BEFORE YE.

[IFE is before ye! from the fated road

Ye cannot turn; then take ye up the load, Not yours to tread, or leave the unknown way, Ye must go o'er it, meet ye what ye may;

Gird up your souls within you to the deed!
Angels and fellow-spirits bid ye speed.

What tho' the brightness wane, the pleasure fade,
The glory dim! Oh, not of those is made
The awful life that to your trust is given.
Children of God! inheritors of heaven!
Mourn not the perishing of each fair toy;
Ye were ordained to do, not to enjoy-
To suffer, which is nobler than to dare;
A holy burden is the life ye bear.
Look on it, lift it, bear it solemnly,
Stand up, and walk beneath it steadfastly;
Fail not for sorrow, falter not for sin,
But onward, upward, till the goal ye win!
God guide ye, and God guard ye on your way,
Young warrior-pilgrims who set forth to-day.

Fanny Kemble.

THE childhood shows the man, as morning shows the day.

Paradise Regained-Book iv.

IDEALS OF WOMAN.

No. 1.

OH, blest with temper, whose unclouded ray

Can make to-morrow cheerful as to-day,

She who can love a sister's charms, and hear
Sighs for a daughter with unwounded ear;
She who ne'er answers till a husband cools,
Or, if she rules him, never shows she rules;

Charms by accepting, by submitting sways,
Yet has her humor most when she obeys;
Spleen, vapors, or small-pox, above them all,
And mistress of herself, though China fall!

Alexander Pope.

IDEALS OF WOMAN.

No. 2.

NOT only good and kind,

But strong and elevated was her mind;

A spirit that with noble pride
Could look superior down

On fortune's smile or frown;
That could without regret or pain
To virtue's lowest duty sacrifice,
Or interest or ambition's highest prize;
That injured, or offended, never tried
Its dignity by vengeance to maintain
But by magnanimous disdain.
A wit, that, temperately bright,
With inoffensive light

All pleasing shone; nor ever past
The decent bounds that wisdom's sober hand,
And sweet benevolence's mild command,

And bashful modesty before it cast.

A prudence undeceiving, undeceived,
That nor too little, nor too much believed;
That scorned unjust suspicion's coward fear,
And without weakness knew to be sincere.

Made to engage all hearts, and charm all eyes,
Though meek, magnanimous; though witty, wise;
Polite, as all her life in courts had been,
Yet good, as she the world had never seen.

George Lyttleton

MY KATE.

IDEAL No. 3.

HE was not as pretty as women I know,

SHE

And yet all your best, made of sunshine and snow, Deep to shade, melt to nought, in the long-trodden ways, While she's still remembered on warm and cold days:

My Kate.

Her air had a meaning, her movement a grace,
You turned from the fairest to gaze in her face;
And when you had once seen her forehead and mouth,
You saw as distinctly her soul and her truth:

My Kate.

Such a blue inner light from her eyelids outbroke,
You looked at her silence and fancied she spoke;
When she did, so peculiar, yet soft was the tone,
Though the loudest spoke also, you heard her alone:
My Kate.

I doubt if she said to you much that could act
As a thought or suggestion; she did not attract
In the sense of the brilliant and wise, I infer;
'Twas her thinking of others made you think of her:

My Kate.

She never found fault with you; never implied
Your wrong by her right; and yet men at her side,
Grew nobler, girls purer, as through the whole town
The children were gladder that pulled at her gown:

My Kate.

None knelt at her feet as adorers in thrall;

They knelt more to God than they used, that was all;