The Roanoke times. [volume] (Roanoke, Va.) 1890-1895, 1895-03-24

When trying to DO true
TO truth-to find ones own true mind,
What can body do?
boston Globo.
a March bird.
Though blasts OF March arc roaring high,
And clouds run races through the sky,
And weathcrcocks arc vcxed to know
Which way to point tho winds that blow
And In the snowdrilts on tho hill
Winter lies hid in ambush still
Thou, little bird, with faithful wing
Hast stakcd thy life upon the spring
Hast come. so full OF life possessed
Winds rufle but thine outer breast
Pcrched on the gardens tallcst pear,
Because last year thy nest was there
Thy song IS of quiet tune
Unto the halcyon days OF June.
Robert +. Rodcn, in St Nicholas
Tho Old-Fnshioncd Fireplace.
How dear to my heart are the days OF my child
hood
When there were no coal gas stoves TO rouse
mans ire;
When the hickory backlog brought in from
the wildwood.
Cave out the bright heat OF the old-fash-
ioned'nrcl
How 1t cracked and sparl;lcd, and Guttcrcd
and Frightened,
How nice it all seems when It's put into
rhymcl
Yet to tell the plain truth to our youth uncn-
lghtcned.
You couldn't warm more than one side nj n
time
All. the old-fashioncd fireplace, the roaring
old fireplace!
How brightly it glowcd with its sparkle ana
Shine
How it warmed up your shins to point of real
torture,
While the cold winter breczes played tag on
your spincl
indianapolis Journal
Which?
Which arc the hands VIC love the best
Those that arc folded between our own
Or those that move us to strange unrest
BY feathcry touch that is quickly flown?
Which, ali, which, do we love the best.
LANDS carcssing, or hands carressedf
Which are the eyes we most adore
Those rejecting our every thought
Or those whose glanccs our hearts implorc,
Whose fire will neither be tanned nor taught?
Which, ah which, arc wcnost drawn toward,
Eyes adoring, or eyes adorcd:
Which is the heart OF hearts we prize,
That which swayS with passionate power,
Or that which yields us sacrifice
Gentle and generous day and hour?
Which-of all DO we hold above,
Hearts most loving or hearts we love?
Mary Berric Chapman. in Magazine OF Poetry.
a ChiIds Quotations.
How does the bread tina, mother bases
Give strength when am weak,
Make for my body dinpled flesh.
And scarlet for my check?
How does the milk that Daisy gives,
White rs drftcd snow,
Change TO drops of crimson blood
That through my body lowI
How docs the air. the pure, sweet air,
Blowing gently by,
Laugh right mcrrily in my voice
And sparkle in my eye?
Mary +. Butts, in S. S. Times.
Winter Night on the Hills.
Afar from the seethng city's whrl
Where the winter mountains lie,
The hilltop line, with its fringe of pine,
Meets the gray OF the cold, cold Sky.
The north wind speaks to the grim tree watch,
And they wave gaunt arms on high
Through the silent night till the rcd dawn
light
They softly creak and sigh
No bird note sounds, nor voice OF man.
There's the hush of Gods own peace,
Meath the drifts snow-curled sleeps a weary
world
Sleeps deep, whllc its toilings cease
S. Scoville, Jr., in Springfield (NIass) Repub-
lican
To n Sweet Little Girl.
No other little girl know
Is half So swee. rs you.
think, when you were made, they used
The swcetcning up for two
And since you are just twice as sweet,
Why. then. You know, you should
BE better than most little girls,
And really twice as good
james G. Bufaett. in n. Y. independent
How tho Easter Lilies Came.
They grew beside the carven tomb
Great, gorgeous flowers OF tropic gloom.
The sunset blaze seemed mirrorcd thcro
Within their petals dainty flare
Rare sangs dc bnufs in floral bloom.
That morning-whcn pale Mary came
The first sweet Easter day-in shame
And sorrow for her Masters scorn:
Her tears-liko pcarls-how sadly born,
Washed white those royal flowers OF fame
End sc the Easter lilies lame.
Ladies' Homo journal,