And he says that the mountains are fairer

For once being held in your thought;

That each rock holds a wealth that is rarer

Than ever by gold-seeker sought(Which are words he would put in these pages,

By a party not given to guile; Which the same not, at date, paying wages,

Might produce in the sinful a smile.)

He remembers the ball at the Ferry, And the ride, and the gate, and the vow,

And the rose that you gave him that very

Same rose he is treasuring now; (Which his blanket he's kicked on

his trunk, Miss,

And send per express to the Flat, Miss,

Which they say York is famed for the breed,

Which though words of deceit may be that- Miss,

I'll trust to your taste, Miss, indeed.

There were tones in the voice that whispered then

You may hear to-day in a hundred men!

O lady and lover, how faint and far Your images hover, and here we are, Solid and stirring in flesh and bone, Edward's and Dorothy's-all their

own

A goodly record for time to show
Of a syllable spoken so long ago!·
Shall I bless you, Dorothy, or forgive,
For the tender whisper that bade me
live?

It shall be a blessing, my little maid! I will heal the stab of the Red-Coat's blade,

And freshen the gold of the tarnished frame,

And gild with a rhyme your household name,

So you shall smile on us brave and bright

As first you greeted the morning's light,

And live untroubled by woes and fears Through a second youth of a hundred years.

O. W. HOLMES.

Of books but few, - some fifty score For daily use, and bound for wear; The rest upon an upper floor; –

Some little luxury there Of red morocco's gilded gleam, And vellum rich as country cream.

Busts, cameos, gems, such things as these,

Which others often show for pride, I value for their power to please, And selfish churls deride;· One Stradivarius, I confess, Two Meerschaums, I would fain

possess,