, 1890-10-09

o press our Ups w " stVhe'
The trees wave > ad IVY answer, anu
the rock frowis nollow ana grim,
And the form, and the nod OF the demon
are caught in the twilight dim;
And we look to the sunlight falling, aiar
on tile mountain crest,
Is there never u path runs upwara 70
refuge there and rest2 r.N..
The path, ahp who has shown 1t, and
si which II the faithful guide
The haven, ahl who has known 1t Tor
.,f. steer is the niountain side,
For ever the shot strikes surely, ana ever
the wasted breath '
OF the PRAYING multitude rises, whose
answer Is only death.
Here are th . tomps OF my klnsfolk, tho
first OF an ancient name,
Chiefs who were slain on the war.teld,
and women who died in the lame
They are gods, these kings oil the fofe,
time they are spirits who guard
Our race,
For Ii watch and worship; they sit
with marble face.
And the myriad idols around mo, and
the legion OF muttering priests,
The reves and riots unholy, the DARK,
unspeakable ieasts =,
What have they rung from the silenceT
Hath even a whisper come. D,
OF the secret-Whence and Whitherr
Alasl for the gods are dumb.
Shall | list to the word of tho English,
who come from the uttermost
sea?
''The secret, hath it been told you, and
what Is your message to mo?
II is naught but the wide world story
how the earth and the heavens be-
gan,
How the gods are glad and angry, and
the Deity once was man.
had thought "Perchance in the cities
o., where the rulers of India dwell,
Whose orders flash from the far land,
VINO girdle tile earth with spell,
They have iuthomed tho depths We
float on, or measured the unknown
main"
Sadly they turn from the venture, and
say that the quest is in vain
Is life, then. a dream and delusion, and
where snalltho dreamer awnke?i;
e. wuter, and what If the 'nirror
Shall it pass as camp that Is struck
as IL camp that is'gathered and
.. poUe-l .''s
From the snhds that were iunip1lit at
''' eve, and at morning nrefevel and
lone2
Is there naught in tho .beavops above,
whence the h al and the levin are
hurlednsiI.gt H..
But the wind that Is swept around US by
the rush of the rolling worlds
The wind. that shall scatter my ashes,
and bear me to silence and sleep,
With the dr. ',and sounds of lament
ing d voices of women who
weep .-. |'
In IA Lighter Vein,
Ny neighbors faults I SEQ
And yet ft'
My own delinquency
Forget. r+
| have q standard high,
You see;
The dust for them, the sky
For me.
To my own errors blind, N.
My sight y..
Another's fault can find
at night.
Brush. .. .,...
tf Bessie Chandler.
have learned u beautiful lesson,
Taught by the sweet-pease standing
there,
Those little clouds of sunset glory
Caught out of time IN morning air.
Iou see their fragrant blossoms nodding,
Purplc. crimson, and pale rose blush,
On slender stems too slight TO bear
.. them ..t
Without the helping, hidden brush.
To its brown arms. so strong and trusty,
The little tcndrils cleavc aud cling.
The vine, upheld, in dust were lying,
n fallen, bruised and tlowcrless thing.
And yet the brush itself WAS barren
tnquickened at the summer kiss,
II bore no scent or Sign oil blossom,
But now II blooms again like this.
think II must forget the sadness
Ofits own broken life and glow
with love for all the warmth and sun.
shine
That makes the swee,,peasc bud and
e., blow
IL may seem but IA dreamy failure,
Dcadencd and storm tossed, dullcd
with strife
But IL ha, helped to bear the blossoms
That crown another, iairer life.
Perfect Day.
Florence A. Jones.
The green trees arch their branches oyer.
head --..
Idly gaze up thro their rustIing leaves
And watch, watch the golden sunlight Sitting
and This strange old world are best oi
! have forgotten all her, cruel wrongs,
The blows that sho has dealt, and will
again.
All that life holds, | have. Who can
have mOre2 ..-.-
To-day Is mine-one royai, golden day
FILLED iuii oil resttnlness and sweet con
tent.
! VIII forget Tomorrow and its care;
! iuve to- day. What more has any one
The real world, with all its toll anc
strife
Is far away. and easy to forget:
And an idle dreamer, float away
IN foolish dreams that, life is what i
seems.
The Guitars Lament
Life.
How times have changed, since gay gal
slants,
With mask and moonlight to enhance
First made my tender strings te
Meath the Spanish donna's window
Such songs they sang as si"Jus,r Ono
Glance