THE CHANTING CHERUBS — A GROUP BY GREENOUGH

That with the stream they seemed to flow;

They told me that his heart was broke.

moon ?

And seek the still and twilight wood, His spirit, weary of the sun,

In humblest things found chiefest good;

I said, I'd deck me in the dews,
Could I but chase away his care,
And clothe me in a thousand hues,

To bring him joys that I might share.

He answered, earth no blessing had
To cure his lone and aching heart;
That I was one, when he was sad,
Oft stole him from his pain, in part.

But e'en from thee, he said, I go

To meet the world, its care and strife, No more to watch this quiet flow,

Or spend with thee a gentle life.

ALICE RAY

THE birds their love-notes warble
Among the blossomed trees;

The flowers are sighing forth their sweets
To wooing honey-bees;

The glad brook o'er a pebbly floor

Goes dancing on its way,

But not a thing is so like spring

As happy Alice Ray.

An only child was Alice,

And, like the blest above,

The gentle maid had ever breathed

An atmosphere of love;

Her father's smile like sunshine came,

Like dew her mother's kiss;

Their love and goodness made her home,

Like heaven, the place of bliss.

Beneath such tender training, The joyous child had sprung,

And gladness round her flung;

And all who met her blessed her,
And turned again to pray

That grief and care might ever spare
The happy Alice Ray.

The gift that made her charming
Was not from Venus caught;

Nor was it, Pallas-like, derived
From majesty of thought;

Her heathful cheek was tinged with brown,
Her hair without a curl-

She thought of grief and pain As giants in the olden time,

That ne'er would come again;
The seasons all had charms for her,
She welcomed each with joy,
The charm that in her spirit lived
No changes could destroy.

Her heart was like a fountain,
The waters always sweet, -

Her pony in the pasture,
The kitten at her feet,

Her precious child, her only,

Lay moaning in his pain; And death alone can free him

She feels that this must be: "But oh! for morn to see him Smile once again on me!"

A hundred lights are glancing
In yonder mansion fair,
And merry feet are dancing-

They heed not morning there:
Oh, young and lovely creatures,
One lamp, from out your store,
Would give that poor boy's features
To her fond gaze once more!

The morning sun is shining-
She heedeth not its ray;
Beside her dead reclining,

That pale, dead mother lay!
A smile her lip was wreathing,
A smile of hope and love,
As though she still were breathing -
"There's light for us above!"

THE DEMON-LOVER

Tam. Who?

Had. None knows his lineage, age, or name: his locks

Are like the snows of Caucasus; his eyes
Beam with the wisdom of collected ages.
In green, unbroken years, he sees, 't is said,
The generations pass, like autumn fruits,
Garnered, consumed, and springing fresh to
life,

Again to perish, while he views the sun,
The seasons roll, in rapt serenity,
And high communion with celestial powers.
Some say 't is Shem, our father, some say
Enoch,

And some Melchizedek.

Tam.

I've heard a tale