AUF WIEDERSEHEN!

HE little gate was reached at last,

Half hid in lilacs down the lane;

She pushed it wide, and, as she past,

A watchful look she backward cast,
And said—" Auf Wiedersehen!"

With hand on latch, a vision white
Lingered reluctant, and again
Half doubting if she did aright,
Soft as the dews that fell that night,
She said "Auf Wiedersehen!"

The lamp's dear gleam flits up the stair;
I linger in delicious pain;

Ah, in that chamber, whose rich air
To breathe in thought I scarcely dare,
Thinks she "Auf Wiedersehen!”

'Tis thirteen years; once more I press The turf that silences the lane;

I hear the rustle of her dress,

I smell the lilacs, and―ah, yes,
I hear "Auf Wiedersehen!"

Sweet piece of bashful maiden art!

The English words had seemed too fain, But these they drew us heart to heart, Yet held us tenderly apart;

She said "Auf Wiedersehen!"

JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL.

XVII.

SUDDEN LIGHT.

HAVE been here before,

But when or how I cannot tell :

I know the grass beyond the door,

The sweet keen smell,

The sighing sound, the lights around the shore.

You have been mine before,

How long ago I may not know:

But just when at that swallow's soar

Your neck turned so,

Some veil did fall,-I knew it all of yore.

Has this been thus before?

And shall not thus time's eddying flight Still with our lives our love restore

In death's despite,

And day and night yield one delight once more?

DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI.

&

MADE another garden, yea,
For my new love :

I left the dead rose where it lay
And set the new above.

Why did the summer not begin?
Why did my heart not haste?
My old love came and walked therein,
And laid the garden waste.

She entered with her weary smile,

Just as of old;

She looked around a little while,

And shivered at the cold.

Her passing touch was death to all,
Her passing look a blight;
She made the white rose-petals fall,
And turned the red rose white.

Her pale robe, clinging to the grass,
Seemed like a snake

That bit the grass and ground, alas!
And a sad trail did make.
She went up slowly to the gate;
And there, just as of yore,

She turned back at the last to wait,

And say farewell once more.

ARTHUR O'SHAUGHNESSY.