The news & observer. [volume] (Raleigh, N.C.) 1894-current, 1896-01-12


If with the gravely shortening days
Faith trims the lamp, faith feeds the
blaze,
And reverence, robed in wintry white,
| Sheds fragrance like a summer night,
Then love can last!
AGATHA.
She wanders in the April woods,
That glistens with the fallen shower;
She leans her face against the buds,
She stops, she stoOps, she plucks a
flower,
She feels the feImcnt of the hour;
She broodeth when the ring-doye
broods;
The sun and flying clouds have power
Upon her cheek and changing moods.
She cannot think she is alone,
AS DER her senses warmly steal
Floods or unrest she fears to own,
And almost breads TO feel.
Among the summer woodlands wide
Anew she roams, no more alone;
The Joy she fear'd is at her side,
Springs blushing secret now is
known,
The primrose and its mates have
flown,
The thrush's ringing note hath died.
But, glancing eye and glowing tone
Fall on her from her God. her guide.
She knows not, asks not, what the
goal,
She only feels she moves toward
bliss,
And yields her pure, unquestioning
To touch and fondly kiss
And still she haunts those woodland
ways,
Though all fond fancy finds there
now
70 mind of spring on summer days
Are sodden trunk and songless
Dough,
The past sits widow'd on her brow,
Homeward she wends with wintry
gaze,
To walls that house "a hollow VOW.
To hearth where love hath ceased to
blaze;
Watches the clammy twilight wane,
With grief too fixed for woe or
tear;
And, with her forehead 'gainst the
pane,
Envies the dying year.
4 NIGHT IN JUNE.
Eady. In this night in June,
Fair like thee and holy,
Art thou gazing at the moon.
That is rising slowly2
I am gazing ON her now.
Something tells me so art thou.
Night hath been when thou and I.
Side by side were sitting;
Watching DER the moonlit sky,
Fleecy cloudlets fitting.
Close our hands were linked then.
When will they be linked again?
What to me the starlight still,
Or the moonbeam's splendor;
If / do not feel the thrill
OF thy fingers slender?
Summer nights in vain are clear,
If thy footsteps be not near.
Roses, slumbering in their sheaths,
And the honeysuckle wreaths
It's translucent amber
Round the gables of my home
How is it thou dost not come?
If thou earnest, rose on rose
From its sleep would waken,
From each flower and leaf that blows
Spices would be shaken.
Floating down from star and tree
Dreamy perfumes welcome thee.
I would lead thee where the leaves
In the moon rays glisten;
And where shadows fall in sheaves,
We would lean and listen.
For the song of that sweet bird
That in April nights is heard.
And when weary lids would close,
And thy head was dropping;
Then like the dew that sleeps the rose,
Ger thy languor STOPPING,
] would, till | woke sigh,
Kiss thy sweet lips silently.
"'
/ would give thee all / own,
All thou hast would borrow;
| from thee would keep alone
Fear, and doubt, and sorrow.
MI Of tender that is mine
Should most tenderly be thine.
Into other skies,
/ beseech thee wander;
Cruel thus to mock mine eyes,
Idle thus 10 sqaunder-
Loves own light on this dark spot
For my lady cometh not
A LAST REDOUBT.
slope still felt
The lannon's bolt and the rifles pelt; |
For last redoubt up the Hill re-
manned,
BY the Russ yet held, by the Turk not
gained.
Mehamet Ali stroked his beard,
His lips were clenched and his look |
was weird;
Round him was ranks Of his ragged
folk,
Their faces blackened with blood and
smoke.
Clear me the Muscovite QUIT" he
cried,
Then the name of "Allah!" echoed
wide,