"You want to see my Pa, I s'pose?'

-no

"Wal"To see my Ma?

-I come dasignin'-
She's sprinklin' clo'es
Agin to-morrer's i'nin'."

To say why gals act so or so,
Or don't, 'ould be presumin';
Mebbe to mean Yes an' say No
Comes nateral to women.

He stood a spell on one fut fust,
Then stood a spell on t'other;
An' on which one he felt the wust
He couldn't ha' told ye nuther.

Says he "I'd better call agin;

Says she-" Think likely, Mister!
That last word prick'd him like a pin,
An' Wal, he up an' kist her.

When Ma bimeby upon 'em slips,
Huldy sot pale ez ashes,

All kin' o' smily roun' the lips
An' teary roun' the lashes.

For she was jes' the quiet kind

Whose naturs never vary,

Like streams that keep a summer mind
Snow-hid in Jenooary.

The blood clost roun' her heart felt glued
Too tight for all expressin',

Tell mother see how matters stood,
And gin em' both her blessin'.

Then her red come back like the tide
Down to the Bay o' Fundy.

An' all I know is they was cried

In meetin' come nex' Sunday.

THE FOUNTAIN.

Into the sunshine,

Full of the light,

Leaping and flashing

From morn till night,—

Into the moonlight,

Whiter than snow,

Waving so flower-like

When the winds blow,

Into the starlight

Rushing in spray,

Happy at midnight,

Happy by day,

Ever in motion,

Blithesome and cheery,

Still climbing heavenward,

Never aweary,—

Glad of all weathers

Still seeming best, Upward or downward, Motion thy rest,—

Full of a nature

Nothing can tame, Changed every moment,

Ever the same,—

Ceaseless aspiring,

Ceaseless content,

Darkness or sunshine
Thy element,--

Glorious Fountain!

Let my heart be

Fresh, changeful, constant, Upward, like thee!

SHE CAME AND WENT.

As a twig trembles which a bird

Lights on to sing, then leaves unbent, So is my memory thrill'd and stirr'd: I only know She came and went.

As clasps some lake, by gusts unriven, The blue dome's measureless content, So my soul held that moment's heaven: I only know She came and went.

As at one bound our swift Spring heaps
The orchards full of bloom and scent,
So clove her May my wintry sleeps:
I only know She came and went.

An angel stood and met my gaze
Through the low doorway of my tent,-
The tent is struck, the vision stays:
I only know She came and went.

O, when the room grows slowly dim,
And life's last oil is nearly spent,
One gush of light these eyes will brim,
Only to think She came and went.

MARIA WHITE LOWELL.

1821-1853.

AN OPIUM FANTASY.

Soft hangs the opiate in the brain,
And lulling soothes the edge of pain,
Till harshest sound, far off or near,
Sings floating in its mellow sphere.

What wakes me from my heavy dream?
Or am I still asleep?

Those long and soft vibrations seem
A slumbrous charm to keep.

The graceful play, a moment stopp'd,
Distance again unrolls,

Like silver balls that, softly dropp'd,
Ring into golden bowls.

I question of the poppies red,
The fairy flaunting band,

While I, a weed with drooping head
Within their phalanx stand:

"Some airy one, with scarlet cap!
The name unfold to me

66

Of this new minstrel who can lap
Sleep in his melody!"

Bright grew their scarlet-kerchief'd heads,
As freshening winds had blown,
And from their gently-swaying beds
They sang in undertone :—

O, he is but a little Owl,

The smallest of his kin,

Who sits beneath the Midnight's cowl
And makes this airy din."

"Deceitful tongues of fiery tints!

Far more than this ye know: That he is your Enchanted Prince Doom'd as an Owl to go.

"Now his fond play for years hath stopp'd ; But nightly he unrolls

His silver balls that, softly dropp'd,

Ring into golden bowls."

WILLIAM ROSS WALLACE.

1820-1881.

EL AMIN-THE FAITHFUL.

Who is this that comes from Hara? not in kingly pomp and pride,

But a great free Son of Nature, lion-soul'd and eagle-eyed :

Who is this before whose presence idols tumble to the sod? While he cries out-"Allah Akbar! and there is no god but God!"

Wandering in the solemn desert, he has wonder'd, like a child Not as yet too proud to wonder, at the sun and star and wild.

"O thou Moon! who made thy brightness? Stars! who hung ye there on high?

Answer! so my soul may worship: I must worship, or I die."

Then there fell the brooding silence that precedes the thunder's roll;

And the old Arabian Whirlwind call'd another Arab soul.

Who is this that comes from Hara? not in kingly pomp and pride,

But a great free Son of Nature, lion-soul'd and eagle-eyed.

He has stood and seen Mount Hara to the Awful Presence nod;

He has heard from cloud and lightning-" Know there is no god but God!"

Call ye this man an Impostor? He was call'd The Faithful,

when

A boy he wander'd o'er the deserts, by the wild-eyed Arab men.