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To-day Jerusalem hails Thee divine,

Yet storm of death awaits to rend the calm! What, then, if grief and bitterness like Thine

To me shall come, I shall not lack this balm,To know, that if Thy way of peace be mine, The amaranth is sweeter than the palm!

ROWLAND B. MAHANY. - Buffalo Sunday Express, March 22, 1891.

A SONG.

TO SLEEP! to sleep! The long bright day is done, And darkness rises from the fallen sun.

To sleep! to sleep!

How dare one say it?
After the cycles, poems, singers, plays,
Vaunted Ionia's, India's—Homer, Shakespeare-

the long, long times' thick dotted roads,

areas, The shining clusters and the Milky Ways of stars-

Nature's pulses reap'd, All retrospective passions, heroes, war, love, ador

ation, All ages' plummets dropt to their utmost depths, All human lives, throats, wishes, brains-all exper

iences' utterance; After the countless songs, or long or short, all

tongues, all lands, Still something not yet told in poesy's voice or print

something lacking, (Who knows? the best yet unexpress’d and lacking).

SAIL OUT FOR GOOD, EIDÓLON YACHT! Heave the anchor short! Raise the main-sail and jib-steer forth, O little white-hull'd sloop, now speed on really deep

waters, (I will not call it our concluding voyage, But outset and sure entrance to the truest, best,

maturest;) Depart, depart from solid earth-no more returning

to these shores, Now on for aye our infinite free venture wending, Spurning all yet tried ports, seas, hawsers, densities,

gravitation, Sail out for good, eidólon yacht of me!

Whate'er thy joys, they vanish with the day; Whate'er thy griefs, in sleep they fade away.

To sleep! to sleep!

Sleep, mournful heart, and let the past be past! Sleep, happy soul! All life will sleep at last. To sleep! to sleep!

ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON. - The New Review, March, 1891.

WHAT SHALL IT PROFIT?

AFTER THE ARGUMENT.

If I lay waste and wither up with doubt
The blessed fields of heaven where once my faith
Possessed itself serenely safe from death;
If I deny the things past finding out;
Or if I orphan my own soul of One
That seemed a Father, and make void the place
Within me where He dwelt in power and grace,
What do I gain, that am myself undone?

WILLIAM DEAN HOWELLS. -Harper's Magazine, February, 1891.

A group of little children with their ways and chatter

flow in, Like welcome rippling water o'er my heated nerves and flesh.

WALT WHITMAN. -Lippincott's Magazine, March, 1891.

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Of the purling waters faintly Whispered music, soft and saintly,

Long ago.

The sobering touch of time

Holds back the hasty rhyme That in the heat of youth once spurned control;

For snared in webs of thought

His flying dreams are caught; Age looks beyond the senses to the soul.

Sad, ah, sad the after summer

Where we know
That the beauteous vision vanished

Long ago!
While no winds of morning kiss her,
And the lonely flowers miss her

As they grow
By her grave, and hope is banished

From below;
And the heart is crushed that cherished
One who passed away and perished
Long ago.

Hu MAXWELL. -For The Magazine of Poetry.

Ah, could the singer's art

Assume the loftier part
As once the lowlier in the realm of song!

Ah, could life's grander themes

Flow like the early streams, What minstrel then would say he had lived too long ?

CHRISTOPHER P. CRANCH. --Harper's Magasine, February, 1891.

EMBARRASSMENT.

SYDNEY LANIER. (Read at the Unveiling of the Poet's Bust, in Macon, Ga.)

I hold a prism to mine upturned eye,
The sunlight's golden lances pierce it through-
Behold! what blazing splendors fill the Blue!

Ten thousand shimmering rainbows arch the sky,

And interblend their glorious radiancy; All gross and common things fade from my view, And, in her virgin beauty robed anew,

The Earth, once more, an Eden seems to be.

GAUNT wreckers watch the wintry coast at night;

The tempest rages in the outward gloom;

Rough men are praying unto God to doom
A vessel struggling with the ocean's might
Crowded and kneeling in supreme affright

Upon the fated ship, a floating tomb,
Vast helpless throngs are seen where lightnings

’lume,
Beseeching God for salvatory light!
And He in highest heaven doth hear these prayers
Offered by every soul with voice sincere,

Who for his sentence in distraction waits,
And He, environed by a million cares,
Looks on the scene of triumph and of fear,
Uplifts his judging hand, and-hesitates!

FRANCIS S. SALTUS. Witch of En-dor and Other Poems.

Such are, to me, the glorifying powers

Of thy rare verse, O crystal-souled Lanier;

What valiant war for Truth thy pen did wage!
It was Ithuriel's spear-but wreathed with flowers;

Thy stainless song recalls Art's golden age,
And Love's immortal glory crowns thy bier.

CHARLES W. HUBNER. For The Magazine of Poetry.

THE MOCKING-BIRD.

THE MINSTREL.

He thought he once could sing

A song of love and spring, But stammered, though he held a full-strung lyre;

Because he lacked the art

Which later years impart; Because the skill was less than the desire.

In the night, in the night, I a mocking-bird heard sing,

In the loneliness and gloom

Of his close, wire-woven room; But he longed with rapid wing

From his prison to take fight; And 'twas for a fancied mate That he sang so loud and late,

In the night.

And now he seems to know

Just how the tune should flow, But misses the young ardor once so strong.

The impulse of the heart

Is slower than the art;
The skill to sing is better than the song.

In the night, in the night, Like the captive mocking-bird,

I sit in my chamber dim,
And I, too, love like him,

THE BIBLIOMANIAC'S PRAYER.

By a longing sweet am stirred,

And dream of a lost delight;
I imagine a true-love, too,
And her with a song I woo,
In the night.

W. L. SHOEMAKER. -For The Magazine of Poetry.

KEEP me, I pray, in wisdom's way,

That I may truths eternal seek; I need protecting care to-day,

My purse is light, my flesh is weak; So banish from my erring heart

All baleful appetites and hints Of Satan's fascinating art

Of first editions and of prints. Direct me in some godly walk

Which leads away from bookish strife, That I with pious deed and talk

May extra-illustrate my life.

A RONDELET.

A RONDELET
Is just an epigram well told.

A rondelet
Is verse of silver set in gold-
The subject new, the rhythms old--
So framéd that you here behold,
A rondelet.

JAMES GRAHAM. -For The Magazine of Poetry.

But if, O Lord, it pleaseth Thee

To keep me in temptation's way,
I humbly ask that I may be

Most notably beset to-day.
Let my temptation be a book

Which I shall purchase, hold and keep,
Whereon when other men shall look,

They'll wail to know I got it cheap.
Oh, let it such a volume be

As in rare copperplates abounds!-
Large paper, clean, and fair to see,
Uncut, unique-unknown to Lowndes.

EUGENE FIELD. -A Little Book of Western Verse.

TWILIGHT.

When I was young the twilight seemed too long.

THE STRANGERS.

How often on the western window seat
I leaned my book against the misty pane
And spelled the last enchanting lines again
The while my mother hummed an ancient song
Or sighed a little and said, “The hour is sweet,"
When I, rebellious, clamored for the light.
But now I love the soft approach of night,
And now with folded hands I sit and dream
While all too fleet the hours of twilight seem:
And thus I know that I am growing old.
Ogranaries of Age! O manifold
And royal harvest of the common years!
There are in all thy treasure-house no ways
But lead by soft descent and gradual slope
To memories more exquisite than hope.
Thine is the Iris born of olden tears,
And thrice more happy are the happy days
That live divinely in thy lingering rays;
So autumn roses bear a lovelier flower;
So, in the emerald after sunset hour,
The orchard wall and trembling aspen trees
Appear an infinite Hesperides.
Ay, as at dusk we sit with folded hands
Who knows, who cares in what enchanted lands
We wander while the undying memories throng ?
When I was young the twilight seemed too long.

A. MARY F. ROBINSON. - The Athenicum.

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burgh: Edmondston & Douglas, 1868. 16mo, pp. viii and 344, and viii and 336.

Ibid. The Book of Orm. (A Prelude to the Epic.) London: Strahan & Co., 1880. 16mo, pp. x and 262.

IBID. The Drama of Kings. London: Strahan & Co., 1871. 12mo, pp. xviii and 472.

IBID. Poetical Works. London: Henry S. King & Co., 1874. Boston: James R. Osgood & Co. Post Svo, pp. x and 317, viii and 347.

Ibid. Ballads of Life, Love, and Humor. With a Frontispiece by Arthur Hughes. London: Chatto & Windus, 1882. 16mo, pp. xii and 355.

Ibid. The Earthquake, or Six Days and a Sabbath. London: Chatto & Windus; 1885. 16mo, pp. vi and 236.

Willson, FORCEYTHE. The Old Sergeant, and Other Poems. Boston: Ticknor & Fields, 1867. 16mo, pp. vi and 115.

BATES, ARLO. Berries of the Brier. Second edition. Boston: Roberts Brothers, 1888. 16mo, pp. 95.

IBID. Sonnets in Shadow. Boston: Roberts Brothers, 1887. 16mo, pp. 48.

GRIFFITH, GEORGE BANCROFT. Miscellaneous poems.

MOORE, AUGUSTA. Miscellaneous poems.

BATES, MARGRET HOLMES, Miscellaneous poems.

MEYNELL, ALICE. Preludes. London, 1875.

CLEAVELAND, CHARLES LORENZO. Miscellaneous poems.

LYTTON, ROBERT, LORD. Poetical works. “Lucile,” “The Apple of Life,” “The Wanderer, Clytemnestra,” etc. New York: Thomas Y. Crowell & Co. Izmo, pp. 480.

Ibid. Fables in Song. Boston: James R. Osgood & Co. 16mo, pp. 332.

Ibid. The Poetical Works of Owen Meredith. Household edition. Boston: James R. Osgood & Co., 1875. 12mo, pp. 406. Ibid. Poems of Owen Meredith. In two vol

Boston: Ticknor & Fields, 1866. 16mо. . Ibid. Lucile. Boston: James R. Osgood & Co., 1878. 16mo, pp. iv and 251.

Ibid. Glenaveril; or, The Metamorphoses. A poem in six books. New York: D. Appleton & Co., 1885. 12mo, pp. 646.

Ibid. After Paradise; or, Legends of Exile, with Other Poems. Boston: Estes & Lauriat, 1887. 16mo, pp. 232.

McKINNIE, PATTERSON LEON. Miscellaneous poems.

RICHARDSON, MARY E. M. Miscellaneous poems.

ROBINSON, HARRIET H. The New Pandora. A drama. New York: G. P. Putnam's Sons, 1889. 12mo, pp. 151.

Ibid. Miscellaneous poems.

ARNOLD, Edwin. The Light of Asia, or The Great Renunciation, being The Life and Teaching of Guatama, Prince of India and Founder of Buddhism. As Told in Verse by an Indian Buddhist. London: Trübner & Co., 1879. 16mo, pp. xvi and 238.

Ibid. Poems. Boston: Roberts Brothers, 1880. 16mo, pp. xv and 246.

Ibid. Pearls of the Faith, or Islam's Rosary. Being the ninety-nine Beautiful Names of Allah. With Comments in Verse from Various Oriental Sources. Boston: Roberts Brothers, 1883. 16mo, pp. vi and 319.

Ibid. The Secret of Death. (From the Sanskrit.) With Some Collected Poems. Boston: Roberts Brothers, 1885. 16mo, pp. x and 252.

Ibid. Birthday Book. Compiled from the works of Edwin Arnold, with new and additional poems written expressly therefor. Edited by Katherine Lilian Arnold and Constance Arnold, his daughters. Boston: D. Lothrop & Co., 1884. 16mo, pp. 441.

Ibid. The Light of the World, or the Great Consummation. New York: Funk & Wagnalls, 1891. 12mo, pp. 286.

BELL, ORELIA KEY. Miscellaneous poems.

HEWITT, JOHN H. Poems. Baltimore, 1853. 16mo, pp. 235.

SWAFFORD, Mrs. M. (BELLE BREMER). Wych Elm. Poems. Buffalo: Charles Wells Moulton, 1891. 16mo, pp. viii and 99.

MOUNTCASTLE, CLARA H. The Mission of Love; Lost; and Other Poems, with Songs and Valentines. By Caris Sima. Toronto: Hunter, Rose & Co., 1882. I 2mo, pp. 200.

KENT, LUCIAN HERVEY. Sunshine and Storm Rendered in Rhyme. Sandusky, Ohio: J. F. Mack & Bro., 1883. 12mo, pp. 166.

Kerr, Rev. ROBERT. Miscellaneous poems.

WELLS, Harry · LAURENZ. Miscellaneous poems.

WEBSTER, GEORGE W. Miscellaneous poems.

Harlow, William BURT. Songs of Syracuse and Other Poems. Syracuse, N. Y.: W. B. Harlow, 1890. 16mo, pp. 74.

umes.

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