DOROTHY. A REVERIE SUGGESTED BY THE NAME UPON A PANE. SHE then must once have looked, as I The swallows must have twittered, too, What was she like? I picture her Soft,pensive, far too subtly graced Whose crude perception could but see How not? She loved, maybe, perfume, And, for the rest, would seem to be Poor child!with heart the down-lined nest Soft, callow things that vaguely felt Not less I dream her mute desire 'Twas then she'd seek this nook, and find 'Twixt heart and heart. Poor Dorothy! L'ENVOI. These last I spoke. Then Florence said, Below me, "Dreams? Delusions, Fred! " Next, with a pause, she bent the while AVICE. "On serait tenté de lui dire, Bonjour, Mademoiselle la Bergeronnette." - VICTOR HUGO. THOUGH the voice of modern schools Has demurred, By the dreamy Asian creed 'Tis averred, That the souls of men, released Sometimes enter in a beast, Or a bird. I have watched you long, Avice, Watched you so, I have found your secret out; And I know That the restless ribboned things, Where your slope of shoulder springs, Are but undeveloped wings That will grow. When you enter in a room, It is stirred With the wayward, flashing flight Of a bird; And you speak and bring with you And the wind-breath and the dew, When you called to me my name, When I heard your single cry In the lane, All the sound was as the "sweet" After rain. When you sang the Schwalbenlied, 'Twas absurd, But it seemed no human note That I heard; For your strain had all the trills, All the little shakes and stills, Of the over-song that rills From a bird. You have just their eager, quick "Airs de tête," |