Your logic, my friend, is perfect, I keep hearing that, and not you. Console if you will, I can bear it; It is pagan; but wait till you feel it; That jar of our earth, that dull shock When the ploughshare of deeper passion Tears down to our primitive rock. Communion in spirit! Forgive me! But I, who am earthy and weak, Would give all my incomes from dreamland For a touch of her hand on my cheek. That little shoe in the corner, [From Under the Willows.] FRANK-HEARTED hostess of the field and wood, Gypsy, whose roof is every spreading tree, June is the pearl of our New England year. Still a surprisal, though expected long, Her coming startles. Long she lies in wait, Makes many a feint, peeps forth, draws coyly back, Then, from some southern ambush in the sky, With one great gush of blossom storms the world. A week ago the sparrow was divine; The blue-bird shifting his light load of song From post to post along the cheerless fence, Was as a rhymer ere the poet come: But now, O rapture! sunshine-winged and voiced, Pipe blown through by the warm wild breath of the West, Shepherding his soft droves of fleecy cloud, Gladness of woods, skies, waters all in one, The bobolink has come, and, like the soul Of the sweet season vocal in a bird, Gurgles in ecstasy we know not what, Save June! Dear June! Now God be praised for June. AUF WIEDERSEHEN. Half hid in lilacs down the lane; She pushed it wide, and, as she past, A wistful 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 clear 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!" North, east, and south there are reefs and breakers You would never dream of in smooth weather, That toss and gore the sea for acres, Bellowing and gnashing and snarl ing together; Look northward, where Duck Island lies, And over its crown you will see arise, Against a background of slaty skies, A row of pillars still and white, That glimmer, and then are out of sight, As if the moon should suddenly kiss, While you crossed the gusty desert by night, The long colonnades of Persepolis; Look southward for White Island light, HENRY FRANCIS LYTE. ABIDE WITH ME. Thou on my head in early youth didst smile; ABIDE with me! fast falls the even-And, though rebellious and perverse tide; The darkness deepens; Lord, with me abide! When other helpers fail, and comforts flee, Help of the helpless, oh, abide with me! Swift to its close ebbs out life's little day; Earth's joys grow dim; its glories pass away; Thou hast not left me, oft as I left meanwhile, Thee. On to the close, O Lord, abide with me! Who like Thyself my guide and stay can be ? Through cloud and sunshine, oh, abide with me! Not a brief glance, I beg, a passing I fear no foe, with Thee at hand to word: bless: But as Thou dwelledst with Thy dis-Ills have no weight, and tears no bit "To arms! to arms! Sir Consul; Lars Porsena is here." On the low hills to westward And nearer fast and nearer Doth the red whirlwind come; And louder still, and still more loud, From underneath that rolling cloud, Is heard the trumpets' war-note proud, The trampling and the hum. And plainly and more plainly Now through the gloom appears, Far to left and far to right, In broken gleams of dark-blue light, Fast by the royal standard, By the right wheel rode Mamilius, But when the face of Sextus But spat towards him and hissed, No child but screamed out curses, And shook its little fist. But the Consul's brow was sad, Before the bridge goes down; Then out spake brave Horatius, |