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, I loved them all. Bell first and best; 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, 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 Its evening landscape balmy-kind; And here, where still her gentle name Lives on the old green glass, would frame Fond dreams of unfound harmony "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. HOUGH the voice of modern schools THOUGH Has demurred, 'Tis averred, By the dreamy Asian creed That the souls of men, released 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; |