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And a quick flame leaped to my eyes and hair, Till cheeks and shoulders burned altogether,
And the next I found myself standing there With my eyelids wet, and my cheeks less fair, And the rose from my bosom tossed high in air, Like a blood-drop falling on plume and feather. Then I drew back quickly-there came a cheer,
A rush of figures, a noise and tussleAnd then it was over, and high and clear My red rose bloomed on his gun's black muzzle.
Then far in the darkness a sharp voice cried, And slowly and steadily, all together,
Shoulder to shoulder and side to side, Rising and falling, and swaying wide, But beaming above them the rose-my pride — They marched away in the twilight weather. And I leaned from the window and watched my ros",
'Tossed on the wave of the surging column, Warmed from above in the sunset glowsBorne from below by an impulse solemn.
Then I shut the window. I heard no more
But lived my life as I did before;
Sick folks to me are a dreadful bore,
You smile, O poet, and what do you?
You lean from the windows, and watch Life's column Trampling and struggling through dust and dew, Filled with its purpose grave and solemn;
And an act, a gesture, a face—who knows? Touches your fancy to thrill and haunt you,
And you pluck from yourbosom that verse that grow.), And down it flies like my red red rose,
And you sit and dream aś away it goes, And think that your duty is done—now don't you?
I know your answer. I'm not yet through:
Look at the photograph—"In the Trenches”That dead man in the coat of blue Holds a withered rose in his hand! That clenches
Nothing. Except that the sun paints true,
And that's my romance. And, poet, you
And who knows but you may find it to
IRD of the wilderness,
Blithesome and cumberless,
Blest is thy dwelling-place-.
Wild is thy lay and loud,
Far in the downy cloud,
Where, on thy dewy wing,
Where art thou journeying?
O'er fell and fountain sheen,
O’er moor and mountain green,
Over the cloudlet dim,
Over the rainbow's rim,
Then, when the gloaming comes,
Sweet will thy welcome and bed of love be!
Emblem of happiness,
Blest is thy dwelling-place-
A LITTLE GIRL'S FANCIES.
LITTLE flowers, you love me so,
You could not do without me;
That round the tree is creeping,
When I am idly sleeping. O rushes by the river side,
You bow when I come near you ;
Because you think I hear you ;
To tempt me to look on you;
and white, You hope that I shall win you. O pretty things, you love me so,
I see I must not leave you ; You'd find it very dull I know,-
I should not like to grieve you. Don't wrinkle up, you silly moss;
My flowers, you need not shiver; My little birds, don't look so cross ;
Don't talk so loud, my river. I'm telling you I will not go,
It's foolish to feel slighted; It's rude to interrupt me so,
You ought to be delighted.
Ah! now you're growing good, I see,
Though anger is beguiling ;
I see a robin smiling.
And I will make a promise, dears,
I'll love you through the happy years,
Till I'm a nice old lady!
Can never think of ceasing,
Keeps steadily increasing.
BIRDS OF PASSAGE.
IRDS ! joyous birds of the wandering wing!
“We come from the shores of the green old Nile,
Oh, joyous birds ! it hath still been so ;
Sad is your tale of the beautiful earth,
EAR the sledges with the bells
Silver bells !
melody foretells !
In the icy air of night!
Keeping time, time, time,
In a sort of Runic rhyme,
From the bells, bells, bells, bells-