You fancied me miles away peacefully reading,

But I saw you, signora, and only last night,

In the deux-temps with Vivian de Vere you were speeding,
And your gauzy clouds brushed against me in your flight.
The part of a wall-flower I humbly was filling,

And I did not announce myself, for, who could tell,
Perhaps my reception by you had been chilling,
And I wished not to break the old magical spell.

For although I speak in this volatile fashion,

I'm vulgar enough to possess, dear, a heart; And the sweet dream of deepest, unchangeable passion From that heart's inward feeling will never depart. Since the time when your childhood gave tenderest token Of the virtues and graces that make up your dower, The chain was linked round me no more to be broken, My allegiance has never once swerved for an hour!

I saw you whirl by, never thinking or dreaming
I saw you, the loveliest demoiselle there;

I watched the rich diamond-spray brilliantly gleaming
And sparkling amid the dark bands of your hair.
In a ball-room, romance, as one justly supposes,

Is quite out of place, still I was so bold

As to wish those dark tresses enwreathed with white roses, The simple white blossoms you loved well of old.

I suppose your lace drapery is of the rarest,

And the broiders that deck it of fabulous worth, Yet, ma mignonne, I think that I held you the fairest In your plain country dress with its loveable dearth Of costly emblazons and ornament golden,

And I worshipped you more in that sweet, simple guise, When from under the round hat, in days dear and olden, Flashed forth the soft light of those exquisite eyes!

For you have unchangingly been my one vision
Of happiness seen through the vista of time;
Belgravian flaneurs may smile in derision,

I care not as long as you see this poor rhyme.
May I say with what hope and what joy I shall cherish
The dream of a future shared, darling, with you ?
That dream-that reality never need perish,
If but to yourself, love, you only be true.

24. MY QUEEN.

THEN and how shall I earliest meet her?

By what name shall I learn to greet her?
I know not now; it will come some day!
With the self-same sunlight shining upon her,
Shining down on her ringlets sheen,

She is standing somewhere, she I shall honour,
She that I wait for, my queen, my queen!

Whether her hair be golden or raven,
Whether her eyes be hazel or blue,

I know not now, but 'twill be engraven
Some day hence as my loveliest hue.
Many a girl I have loved for a minute,
Worshipped many a face I have seen,
Ever and aye there was something in it,
Something that could not be hers, my queen!

I will not dream of her tall and stately,
She that I love may be fairy light;
I will not say she must move sedately,
Whatever she does it will then be right.
She may be humble or proud, my lady,
Or that sweet calm which is just between;
And whenever she comes she will find me ready
To do her homage, my queen, my queen!

But she must be courteous, she must be holy,
Pure in her spirit, this maiden I love;
Whether her birth be noble or lowly
I care no more than the spirits above.
But I'll give my heart to my lady's keeping,
And ever her strength on mine shall lean;
And the stars may fall, and the saints be weeping,
Ere I cease to love her, my queen, my queen!

WHE

HEN and how shall I meet him? if ever: What are the words he first will say? How will the barriers now that sever

Our kindred spirits be broken away? This self-same daylight on him is shining, Shining somewhere the while I sing, The only one who, my will resigning, Could I acknowledge my king, my king.

Whether his hair be golden or raven,
Whether his eyes be dark or blue,

I know not now; but 'twould be engraven
On that white day as my perfect hue.
Many a face I have liked for a minute-

Been chain'd by a voice with a pleasant ringBut ever and aye there was something in it, Something that could not be his, my king.

I will not dream of him handsome and strong,
My ideal love may be weak and slight;
It matters not to what class he belong,

He would be noble enough in my sight;
He may not be brilliantly gifted, my lord!
And he may be learned in everything;
But if ever he comes he will strike the chord,

Whose melody waits for the hand of its king.

But he must be courteous toward the lowly;
To the weak and sorrowful, loving too;
He must be courageous, refined, and holy,

By nature exalted, and firm, and true :
To such I might fearlessly give the keeping
Of love that would never outgrow its spring:
There would be few tears of a woman's weeping,
If they loved such men as my king, my king.

"TELI

Said the curly-haired child on my knee; 'It must not be short, and it must not be long.' Little Golden-Hair, what shall it be?

'Tell me a story, or sing me a song

Of a princess, who dwelt by the sea,

And what the waves sung to her, all the day long,

And what to the waves answered she.'

The waves, in calm weather, came trippingly, trippingly,
Ripplingly, up from the sea,—

'The flowers at thy casement are blooming and dying,
The smile on thy mouth, it has ended in sighing,

As thou sittest alone by the sea;

But the mast is of gold, and the ship is of pearl,
And its sails take the light, like this long amber curl
That droops from thy neck to thy knee.'

Cheer up, pretty princess! the white sails are flying,
At the ends of the world, they are shining and flying,
That bear a fond suitor to thee!

And she listens in fear, 'twixt a smile and a tear,
Half-pleased and half-pensive is she;

And she tosses her head, just as if she had said,
'He may tarry for ever, for me!'

But the waves, in rough weather, came roaringly, 10aringly,

Pouringly, up from the sea,

6

And the land-echoes moan, Wilt thou go all alone,

To be tossed on the storm-driven sea?

Leaving father, and mother, and sister, and brother,
For a stranger thou never didst see?'

And loud winds arise, as she weepingly cries,
'He may come,-but he'll never have me!
The waters are cold-not for silver and gold
Would I trust to the treacherous sea!
O say, only say, you won't take me away,
Ye wild-flowing waves of the sea!'

'Ah, what a sad song!' little Golden-Hair said;
'But finish the story, I pray;

The prince he is coming quite soon, I'm afraid,
And then will he take her away?'

'Nay, now, little Goldon-Hair, how can I tell?
Run away, for a troublesome elf!'

But she clapped her small hands, crying out, ' Very well,
I can finish it all for myself!'

Ah, whisper, sweet Golden-Hair, close to my ear,
Do tell me I want so to know!

"The prince he is handsome-the prince he is dear,
And the princess will willingly go.

'The ship is all sparkling with gold and with pearl,
The white sails are fluttering free,

And there, on the deck, like a little bright speck,
The pretty princess I can see.

"The prince he leans over her all the day long,

Or plays his sweet lute at her side;

And when the waves roar, and the wind is too strong,
He soothes her with loverly pride.'

'But is she unhappy? or is she afraid?

Little Golden-Hair capered for glee;

'She's as merry again,' said this mischievous maid, 'As she was when she sat by the sea!'

Gerda Fay.