A PAIR OF GLOVES. My love of loves-my May, In rippling shadows lying, The ardent sun was trying In rippling shadows lying. I knelt and kissed her lips, The pair of gloves I won, My darling pays in kisses! Long may the sweet debt run- Till death our loves dismisses My darling pays in kisses! C. H. WARING. IN THE ORCHARD. A Trio of Triolets. O the apples rosy-red! O the gnarled trunks grey and brown, Heavy-branched overhead! O the apples rosy-red! O the merry laughter sped, As the fruit is showered down! O the apples rosy-red! O the gnarled trunks grey and brown! O the blushes rosy-red! O the loving autumn breeze! O the words so softly said! O the blushes rosy-red, While old doubts and fears lie dead, O the blushes rosy-red! O the loving autumn breeze! O the years so swiftly fled ! O twin hearts that beat as one, With a love time-strengthenèd! O the years so swiftly fled ! O the apples rosy-red, That still ripen in the sun! O the years so swiftly fled! O'twin hearts that beat as one! GEORGE WEATHERLY. VILLANELLE. Tay serdu ma tourterelle Tu regrettes ta emelle; Si ton amour est fidèle, Ta plainte se renouvelle? En ne voyant plus la belle Mort, que tant de fois j'anelle ROSES. There are roses white, there are roses red, Which shall I choose to wreathe my head? Which shall I cull from the garden-bed To greet my love on this very night? There are roses white, there are roses red. The red should say what I would have said; Ah! how they blush in the evening light! Which shall I choose to wreathe my head? The white are pale as the snow new-spread, Pure as young eyes and half as bright; There are roses white, there are roses red. Roses white, from the heaven dew-fed, Summer twilight is almost fled, Say, dear love! have I chosen right? There are roses white, there are roses red, All twined together to wreathe my head. L. S. BEVINGTON. |