Then, still waving benedictions,
Further further off he drew,
While the shadow seemed a glory
That across the pathway grew.

Now about the household duties
Silently the maiden went,
And an ever radiant halo

With her daily life was blent.
Little knew the ancient matron,
As her feet like music fell,
What abundant treasure found she,
Fetching water from the well.

the meanest hut is a romance, if you knew the hearts

IN

there.

Varnhagen von Ense.

THE APPEAL.

H! mother, cease to break my heart,

I vow it now, I vowed it then-
The kiss he left upon my lips,

His lips shall one day take again!
Ah, well I mind the summer eve,

A low scud swept the waning moon,

And o'er the ripened clover-lea

Floated the balmy breath of June.

Among the dreamy woodland glooms,
Alone, we breathed our parting sighs;

Only the silent watching stars

Looked on us, with their holy eyes.

No golden circlet bound our love,
No vow at sacred altar given;
Yet, in that hour, our married souls
Were registered as one, in heaven.

I will not live, a guilty thing,

Pillowed upon another's breast, While every thought I send to him,

Shall scare God's angels from my rest! Perjured before a new-born soul!

[If such in holy trust were given,] Mother, I need a clean white hand To lead a little child to Heaven!

Oh, turn away your cruel eyes!

The gold you'd sell me for is dim;
What need I bargain for the world?

I have my full round world in him.
Then, mother, cease to break my heart,
I vow it now, I vowed it then-
The kiss he left upon my lips,
His lips shall one day take again!

Sarah Warner Brooks.

SCHULE

-LOVE.

TWAS then we luvit ilk ither weel, 'Twas then we twa did part;

Sweet time! sad time! twa bairns at schule,

Twa bairns, and but ae heart!

When baith bent doun owre ae braid page,

Wi' ae buik on our knee,

Thy lips were on thy lesson, but

My lesson was in thee!

O mind ye how we hung our heads,
How cheeks brent red wi' shame,
Whene'er the schule-weans, laughin', said,
We cleeked thegither hame?
I've wandered east, I've wandered west,
Through many a weary way;

But never, never can forget

The time of life's young day!

William Motherwell.

L

LOVE.

OVE? I will tell thee what it is to love!

It is to build with human thoughts a shrine Where hope sits brooding like a beauteous dove; Where Time seems young and life a thing divine, All tastes, all pleasures, all desires combine,

To consecrate this sanctuary of bliss,

Above, the stars in shroudless beauty shine;

Around, the streams their flowery margins kiss, And if there's heaven on earth, that heaven is surely this. Yes! this is Love, the steadfast and the true,

The immortal glory which hath never set;

The best, the brightest gift the heart e'er knew;
Of all life's sweets, the very sweetest yet!

Oh! who but can recall the eve they met

To breathe, in some green walk, their first young vow, While summer flowers with moonlight dews were wet. And winds sighed soft around the mountain's brow, And all was rapture then, which is but memory now.

Charles Swain.

Fast silent tears were flowing,
When something stood behind,
A hand was on my shoulder,

I knew its touch was kind!
It drew me nearer-nearer,
We did not speak a word;
But the beating of our own hearts
Was all the sound we heard.

R. M. Milnes.

A

AN EXPERIENCE.

HAPPY lover who has come,

To look on her that loves him well,
Who lights and rings the gateway bell,
And learns her gone, and far from home.

He saddens, all the magic light

Dies off at once from bower and hall,

And all the place is dark, and all
The chambers emptied of delight.

Alfred Tennyson.

THE hydden traynes I know, and secret snares of Love, How soone a luke will prynte à thoughte that never may

remove.

Howard-Earl of Surry.

ONE of the most wonderful things in nature, is a glance; it

transcends speech; it is the bodily symbol of identity.

R. W. Emerson.