We roused the rooks with rounds and glees, Louise was one-light, glib Louise, Shy Ruth, all heart and tenderness, Who blushed before the mildest men, You teased her kitten. I loved them all. Louise the next Bell first and best; for days of jest Or madcap masking; And Ruth, I thought,-why, failing these, When my High-Mightiness should please, She'd come for asking. Louise was grave when last we met; And Ruth, Heaven bless her, Ruth that I wooed,-and wooed in vain,— Has gone where neither grief nor pain Can now distress her. DOROTHY A REVERIE SUGGESTED BY THE NAME UPON A PANE HE then must once have looked, as I SHE - Look now, across the level rye,Past Church and Manor-house, and seen, As now I see, the village green, The bridge, and Walton's river-she Dorothy." The swallows must have twittered, too, What was she like? I picture her Whose crude perception could but see How not? She loved, maybe, perfume, Poor child!with heart the down-lined nest Not less I dream her mute desire 'Twas then she'd seek this nook, and find L'ENVOI. These last I spoke. Then Florence said, 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, 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; |