Our voice, which thrilled you so, will let So tired, so tired, my heart and I! When Ralph sat with me 'neath the lime "Dear Love, you 're looking tired," he said; I, smiling at him, shook my head; 'T is now we're tired, my heart and I. So tired, so tired, my heart and I! Though now none takes me on his arm Tired out we are, my heart and I. Yet, who complains? My heart and I? I think we've fared, my heart and I. ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING. ROSALIE WHEN thou, in all thy loveliness, Sweet Rosalie, wert mine, Of Earth's one more, of Heaven's one less, I counted things divine. But since the lilies o'er thy breast Out of the sweetness spring, Of love's delight I miss the rest And keep alone the sting. Till now I reckon things divine Earth's share has dwindled down to mine, And Heaven has all the more. WILLIAM C. RICHARDS. REQUIESCAT TREAD lightly, she is near, Under the snow; Speak gently, she can hear All her bright golden hair She that was young and fair Lily-like, white as snow, Coffin-board, heavy stone, Lie on her breast; I vex my heart alone, She is at rest. Peace, peace; she cannot hear All my life's buried here Lyre or sonnet; Heap earth upon it. OSCAR WILDE. THE OLD SEXTON NIGH to a grave that was newly made, Leaned a sexton old on his earth-worn spade; The funeral train at the open gate. A relic of by-gone days was he, And his locks were as white as the foamy sea; - - "I gather them in; for man and boy, Mother and daughter, father and son, But come they stranger, or come they kin, "Many are with me, yet I'm alone; I'm King of the Dead, and I make my throne "I gather them in, and their final rest Is here, down here, in the earth's dark breast!” Gather gather-gather them in." PARK BENJAMIN. One year ago, what loves, what schemes What joyous hopes, what high resolves, The silent picture on the wall, Of all that beauty, life, and joy, One year, one year,― one little year, And so much gone! And yet the even flow of life Moves calmly on. The grave grows green, the flowers bloom fair No sorrowing tint of leaf or spray No pause or hush of merry birds Tells us how coldly sleeps below Where hast thou been this year, beloved? What visions fair, what glorious life, The veil ! the veil ! so thin, so strong! The mystic veil! when shall it fall, Not dead, not sleeping, not even gone, And waiting for the coming hour Lord of the living and the dead, We lay in silence at thy feet HARRIET BEECHER STOWE. BEFORE SEDAN HERE in this leafy place, Quiet he lies, Cold, with his sightless face Turned to the skies; Carry his body hence,- What was the white you touched, There at his side? Paper his hand had clutched Tight ere he died; Message or wish, may be : Hardly the worst of us Words of a child :- Look. She is sad to miss, His - her dead father's - kiss, Tries to be bright, Good to mamma, and sweet. Ah, if beside the dead Slumbered the pain! Ah, if the hearts that bled If the grief died! But no: Death will not have it so, AUSTIN DOBSON. HIGHLAND MARY YE banks, and braes, and streams around Green be your woods, and fair your flowers, There simmer first unfauld her robes, For there I took the last fareweel How sweetly bloomed the gay green birk, Wi' mony a vow, and locked embrace, |