SONG.

FOR me the jasmine buds unfold,
And silver daisies star the lea,
The crocus hoards the sunset gold,

And the wild rose breathes for me.

I feel the sap through the bough returning,
I share the skylark's transport fine,
I know the fountain's wayward yearning-
I love, and the world is mine!

I love, and thoughts that some time grieved,
Still, well remembered, grieve not me;
From all that darkened and deceived

Upsoars my spirit free.

For soft the hours repeat one story,
Sings the sea one strain divine,

My clouds arise all flushed with glory-
I love, and the world is mine!

FLORENCE EARLE COATES. -Harper's Weekly, February 18, 1891.

PANSY.

Ан, as radiant as thy face is
Nestling 'mong my lady's laces,
Says my heart, "Thou art no fairer,
Little thought-bloom, than thy wearer.
Thou canst tell not half the story
Of my lady's tender glory."

Is't with rapture thou are trembling

On her breast? There's no dissembling In my lady; there's none truer.

This I say who am her wooer.

When her lips breathe words of sweetness

In her soul is their completeness,
So she loves thee Pansy-blossom
For she wears thee on her bosom.

Brightly lift thy head thou fair one,
She has placed thee there to snare one.
He whose eyes by thee are captured
Looks again and is enraptured
With the face that smiles above thee.
Rightly, blossom, doth she love thee.

Thou dost wear the look of speaking
Tell me, Pansy, that I'm seeking.
Thou who art her necromancer
Whisper me my lady's answer
To the question, doth she love me?
Ah, she seems so far above me
With her gentle maiden graces!
Thou, who 'rt nestling 'mid the laces

Just above her warm heart's beating, Does my love find welcome greeting?

Does that gentle heart beat faster?
Does it leap to call me master
O'er her woman's strong devotion?
Oh, my love is like the ocean-
Deeply, widely, round her surging,-
As resistless in its urging.
And I'll win my lady's pleasure,
Pansy, I will win my treasure.

CARRIE RENFREW.

-For The Magazine of Poetry.

LINES.

(Suggested by Lyman Whitney Allen's poem, “ In the Coming of His Feet.")

IN the coming of His feet,

I hear music rare and sweet.
And I listen while I ponder
With a new, increasing wonder,
O'er the beauty and the glory
I shall meet!

I have lost all fear and doubt
That long compassed me about;
I have found the meaning plain
Of my grief and care and pain,
But for these I would His coming
Be without!

For the coming of His feet,

I must rouse my soul to meet;
Laying down my weight of sorrow
Deck my temple fair to-morrow,
For His glory and His beauty
I may meet!

ALICE S. Deletombe. -The Interior, January 15, 1891.

LONG AGO.

HAPPIEST dreams were those that vanished Long ago.

Fairest flowers were those that faded

Long ago.

Softest winds were those that blessed her, Loved her fondly, and caressed her Brow of snow.

And the brooklet's banks were shaded Where the flow

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.

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.

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.

WHEN I was young the twilight seemed too long.

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.

O granaries 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 Athenæum.

THE BIBLIOMANIAC'S PRAYER.

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.

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.

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 8vo, pp. x and 317, viii and 347.

IBID. Ballads of Life, Love, and Humor. With a Frontispiece by Arthur Hughes. London: Chatto & Windus, 1882. 16m0, 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.

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. 12mo, pp. 480.

IBID. Fables in Song. Boston: James R. Osgood & Co. 16m0, 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. umes.

In two vol

Boston: Ticknor & Fields, 1866. 16mo.

IBID. Lucile. Boston: James R. Osgood & Co., 1878. 16m0, 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. 16m0, pp. 232.

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. 16m0, pp. xvi and 238.

IBID. Poems. Boston: Roberts Brothers, 1880. 16m0, 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. 16m0, 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. 16m0, pp. 441.

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

SWAFFORD, Mrs. M. (BellE BREMER). Wych Elm. Poems. Buffalo: Charles Wells Moulton, 1891. 16m0, 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. 12mo, 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.