Dreaming, the long night hours,

Of white sails coming o'er the tossing deep,

At dawn this morning from her strange, glad sleep She rose to gather flowers,

Cups honeyed to the brim,

And fruits, and brilliant grasses, and the stems
Of myrtles, with their waxen diadems,

To offer unto him.

Beside the chapel porch,

The Gloria ended, lingering now, she turns
To look, as on the brightening spire-cross burns
The morning's golden torch;

Then sees, with sober glee,

The swift prophetic sea-gulls flying south,
Far out beyond the landlocked harbour's mouth,
Into the open sea.

"Steady, thou freshening breeze,"

Her dark eyes say, as o'er the sparkling main
She gazes; "steady, till thou bring again.
The ship from distant seas;

"So, ere his golden wine.

The setting sun adown the valley pour,
Dear eyes may watch with me, beside the door,
The autumn day decline."

O breeze! O sea-birds white!

Ye may not bring her from that rocky coastThe stranded ship-nor wrest the tempest-tossed From the black billow's might;

But when she wearily

Shall pray for comfort, of that country tell Where all the lost are crowned with asphodel, And there is no more sea.

LEMON.

OLD TIME AND I.

OLD Time and I the other night
Had a carouse together;

The wine was golden, warm, and bright-
Ay! just like summer weather.
Quoth I, "There's Christmas come again,
And I no farthing richer;"

Time answered, "Ah! the old, old strain-
I prithee pass the pitcher.

"Why measure all your good in gold? No rope of sand is weaker;

'Tis hard to get, 'tis hard to hold

Come, lad, fill up your beaker.
Hast thou not found true friends more true,
And loving ones more loving ?"

I could but say, "A few-a few;
So keep the liquor moving."

"Hast thou not seen the prosp❜rous knave Come down a precious thumper? His cheats disclosed?" "I have-I have!" "Well, surely that's a bumper."

"Nay, hold a while; I've seen the just

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Find all their hopes grow dimmer." "They will hope on, and strive, and trust, And conquer!" "That's a brimmer."

""Tis not because to-day is dark, No brighter day's before 'em ; There's rest for every storm-toss'd bark." "So be it! Pass the jorum!" "Yet I must own I should not mind

To be a little richer."

"Labour and wait, and you may findHallo! an empty pitcher."

THE EN D.