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Ah! each sailor in the port

Knows that I have ships at sea,
Of the waves and winds the sport,
And the sailors pity me.
Oft they come and with me walk,
Cheering me with hopeful talk,
Till I put my fears aside,
And, contented, watch the tide
Rise and fall, rise and fall.

I have waited on the piers,
Gazing for them down the bay,
Days and nights for many years,
Till I turned heart-sick away.
But the pilots, when they land,
Stop and take me by the hand,
Saying, "You will live to see
Your proud vessels come from sea,
One and all, one and all."

So I never quite despair,

Nor let hope or courage fail;

And some day, when skies are fair,
Up the bay my ships will sail.
I shall buy then all I need,
Prints to look at, books to read,
Horses, wines, and works of art,
Everything except a heart

That is lost, that is lost.
Once, when I was pure and young,
Richer, too, than I am now,
Ere a cloud was o'er me flung,

Or a wrinkle creased my brow,
There was one whose heart was mine;
But she's something now divine
And though come my ships from sea,
They can bring no heart to me
Evermore, evermore.

ROBERT STEVENSON COFFIN.

LOVE'S YOUNG DREAM.

FROM IRISH MELODIES."

O THE days are gone when beauty bright

My heart's chain wove !

When my dream of life, from morn till night,

Was love, still love!

New hope may bloom,

And days may come,

Of milder, calmer beam,

But there's nothing half so sweet in life

As love's young dream!

O, there's nothing half so sweet in life
As love's young dream!

Though the bard to purer fame may soar,
When wild youth's past;

Though he win the wise, who frowned before,
To sm le at last ;

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Like the wind through a ruined cell,
Or the mournful surges

That ring the dead seaman's knell.

When hearts have once mingled,

Love first leaves the well-built nest;

The weak one is singled

To endure what it once possessed.

O Love! who bewailest

The frailty of all things here,

Why choose you the frailest

For your cradle, your home, and your bier

Its passions will rock thee

As the storms rock the ravens on high;
Bright reason will mock thee
Like the sun from a wintry sky.
From thy nest every rafter
Will rot, and thine eagle home
Leave thee naked to laughter,
When leaves fall and cold winds come.

PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

WHITTIER

4:

As some tall pine that from a mountain side

O'erlooks a hundred verdant vales below,
And drinks their balm, and hears their waters flow,
While, o'er the lofty summits cloud-allied,
He marks the storm-king in his chariot, ride,
And sees athwart the heaven's lurid glow
The thunderbolt in zig-zag splendor go.
How towers his crest, uplift in rugged pride!
But when the waning tempest dies apace,

What reed of Pan, however fine it blew,

Might sweetlier breathe out nature's inmost grace?
So standest thou within our mortal view.
What star serene is now thy dwelling place,
Great soul, high heart, O nobler than we knew?

November, 1892

LOUISE A. McGAFFEY

From Belford's Magazine, Chicage

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TAKE, O, TAKE THOSE LIPS AWAY.*
TAKE, O, take those lips away,

That so sweetly were forsworn ;
And those eyes, like break of day,

Lights that do mislead the morn;
But my kisses bring again,
Seals of love, but sealed in vain.

Hide, O, hide those hills of snow

Which thy frozen bosom bears,
On whose tops the pinks that grow
Are yet of those that April wears!
But first set my poor heart free,
Bound in those icy chains by thee.

SHAKESPEARE and JOHN FLETCHER.

WHY SO PALE AND WAN?

WHY so pale and wan, fond lover?

Pr'y thee, why so pale?

Will, when looking well can't move her, Looking ill prevail?

Pr'y thee, why so pale?

Why so dull and mute, young sinner? Pr'y thee, why so mute?

Will, when speaking well can't win her, Saying nothing do 't?

Pr'y thee, why so mute?

Quit, quit, for shame! this will not move, This cannot take her :

If of herself she will not love,

Nothing can make her :

The devil take her!

SIR JOHN SUCKLING

OUTGROWN.

NAY, you wrong her, my friend, she's not fickle; her love she has simply outgrown : One can read the whole matter, translating her heart by the light of one's own.

Can you bear me to talk with you frankly? There is much that my heart would say ; And you know we were children together, have quarrelled and "made up" in play.

And so, for the sake of old friendship, I venture to tell you the truth,

As plainly, perhaps, and as bluntly, as I might in our carlier youth.

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The first stanza of this song appears in Shakespeare's Measure for Measure, Act iv. Sc. 1.; the same, with the second He

stanza added, is found in Beaumont and Fletcher's Bloody Brother, Act v. Sc. 4.

:

cannot look down to her lover her love, like her soul, aspires;

must stand by her side, or above her, who would kindle its holy fires.

Now farewell! For the sake of old friendship
I have ventured to tell you the truth,
As plainly, perhaps, and as bluntly, as I might
in our earlier youth.

JULIA C. R. Dorr.

ALAS HOW LIGHT A CAUSE MAY MOVE.

FROM "THE LIGHT OF THE HAREM."

ALAS! how light a cause may move
Dissension between hearts that love!
Hearts that the world in vain has tried,
And sorrow but more closely tied ;

That stood the storm when waves were rough,
Yet in a sunny hour fall off,

Like ships that have gone down at sea,
When heaven was all tranquillity!

- a look,

A something light as air,
A word unkind or wrongly taken, -
O, love that tempests never shook,

A breath, a touch like this has shaken!
And ruder words will soon rush in
To spread the breach that words begin;
And eyes forget the gentle ray
They wore in courtship's smiling day;
And voices lose the tone that shed
A tenderness round all they said;
Till fast declining, one by one,
The sweetnesses of love are gone,
And hearts, so lately mingled, seem
Like broken clouds, or like the stream,
That smiling left the mountain's brow,

As though its waters ne'er could sever, Yet, ere it reach the plain below,

Breaks into floods that part forever.

O you, that have the charge of Love,
Keep him in rosy bondage bound,
As in the Fields of Bliss above

He sits, with flowerets fettered round ;-
Loose not a tie that round him clings,
Nor ever let him use his wings;
For even an hour, a minute's flight
Will rob the plumes of half their light.
Like that celestial bird, whose nest

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Of all the operas that Verdi wrote,

The best, to my taste, is the Trovatore ;
And Mario can soothe, with a tenor note,
The souls in purgatory.

The moon on the tower slept soft as snow;
And who was not thrilled in the strangest way,
As we heard him sing, while the gas burned low,
"Non ti scordar di me"?

The emperor there, in his box of state,
Looked grave, as if he had just then seen
The red flag wave from the city gate,
Where his eagles in bronze had been.

The empress, too, had a tear in her eye:

You'd have said that her fancy had gone back again,

For one moment, under the old blue sky,
To the old glad life in Spain.

Well there in our front-row box we sat
Together, my bride betrothed and I;

My gaze was fixed on my opera hat,
And hers on the stage hard by.

And both were silent, and both were sad ;-
Like a queen she leaned on her full white arm,
With that regal, indolent air she had;

So confident of her charm!

I have not a doubt she was thinking then
Of her former lord, good soul that he was,
Who died the richest and roundest of men,
The Marquis of Carabas.

I hope that, to get to the kingdom of heaven,
Through a needle's eye he had not to pass;
I wish him well for the jointure given
To my lady of Carabas.

Meanwhile, I was thinking of my first love

As I had not been thinking of aught for years; Till over my eyes there began to move Something that felt like tears.

I thought of the dress that she wore last time,
When we stood 'neath the cypress-trees together,
In that lost land, in that soft clime,
In the crimson evening weather;

Of that muslin dress (for the eve was hot);
And her warm white neck in its golden chain;
And her full soft hair, just tied in a knot,

And falling loose again;

And she looked like a queen in a book that And the jasmine flower in her fair young breast;

night,

With the wreath of pearl in her raven hair,

And the brooch on her breast so bright.

(O the faint, sweet smell of that jasmine flower!) And the one bird singing alone to his nest ;

And the one star over the tower.

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