And the great sky, the royal heaven | There came no murmur from the streams, Though nigh flowed Leither, Tweed, and Quair. above, Darkens with storms or melts in hues of love; books: Shakespeare consoles Fills me with tender calm, Or through hushed heavens of soul Milton's deep thunder rolls! And more than all, o'er shattered The relics of a happier time and state, Shines on unquenched! O deathless In the clear midnight of those passionate eyes! Joy waneth! Fortune flies! What then? Thou still art here, soul of my soul, my Wife! ISA CRAIG KNOX. BALLAD OF THE BRIDES OF QUAIR. A STILLNESS crept about the house, The many-windowed House of Quair. The peacock on the terrace screamed; Browsed on the lawn the timid hare; The pool was still; around its brim The days hold on their wonted pace, While women keep the House of Quair, And one is clad in widow's weeds, And one is maiden-like and fair, And day by day they seek the paths About the lonely fields of Quair. To see the trout leap in the streams, The maiden loves in pensive dreams To hang o'er silver Tweed and Quair. Within, in pall-black velvet clad, Sits stately in her oaken chair Her daughter broiders by her side, "Ill fare the brides that come to Quail "For more than one hath lived in pine, And more than one hath died of care And more than one hath sorely sinned, Left lonely in the House of Quair. "Alas! and ere thy father died I had not in his heart a share, And now-may God forfend her illThy brother brings his bride to Quair.” She came; they kissed her in the hall, They kissed her on the winding stair, They led her to the chamber high, The fairest in the House of Quair. SPRING, with that nameless pathos in the At times a fragrant breeze comes floating That age to childhood bind, by, The elm puts on, as if in Nature's scorn, Open one point on the weather-bow, The brown of autumn corn. Is the lighthouse tall on Fire Island Head? As yet the turf is dark, although you There's a shade of doubt on the captain's know brow, And the pilot watches the heaving lead. I stand at the wheel, and with eager eyeTo sea and to sky and to shore I gaze, Till the muttered order of Full and by!" Is suddenly changed for "Full for stays!" The ship bends lower before the breeze, As her broadside fair to the blast she lays, And she swifter springs to the rising seas, As the pilot calls, "Stand by for stays!" It is silence all, as each in his place, With the gathered coil in his hardened hands, By tack and bowline, by sheet and brace, Waiting the watchword impatient stands. And the light on Fire Island Head draws | What matters the reef, or the rain, or the squall? I steady the helm for the open sea; The first mate clamors, "Belay there, all!" And the captain's breath once more comes free. LOVE, when all these years are silent, vanished quite and laid to rest, When you and I are sleeping, folded breathless breast to breast, When no morrow is before us, and the long grass tosses o'er us, And our grave remains forgotten, or by alien footsteps pressed, Still that love of ours will linger, that great love enrich the earth, Sunshine in the heavenly azure, breezes blowing joyous mirth; Fragrance fanning off from flowers, Sparkle of the spicy wood-fires round the melody of summer showers, happy autumn hearth. That's our love. But you and I, dear, -shall we linger with it yet, Mingled in one dewdrop, tangled in one sunbeam's golden net, On the violet's purple bosom, I the sheen, but you the blossom, Stream on sunset winds and be the haze with which some hill is wet? WILLIAM WINTER. - JOAQUIN MILLER. 313 Only this our yearning answers,-where- | Come with a smile, auspicious friend, so'er that way defile, Not a film shall part us through the sons of that mighty while, In the fair eternal weather, even as phantoms still together, | To usher in the eternal day! of these weak terrors make an end, And charm the paltry chains away That bind me to this timorous clay! Floating, floating, one forever, in the And let me know my soul akin light of God's great smile! SONG. In the summer twilight, While yet the dew was hoar, I went plucking purple pansies Till my love should come to shore. The fishing-lights their dances Were keeping out at sea, And, "Come," I sang, "my true love, Come hasten home to me! But the sea it fell a-moaning, And the white gulls rocked thereon, And the young moon dropped from heaven, And the lights hid, one by one. All silently their glances Slipped down the cruel sea, And, "Wait," cried the night and wind and storm, "Wait till I come to thee." To sunrise and the winds of morn, And every grandeur that has been Since this all-glorious world was born, Nor longer droop in my own scorn. Come, when the way grows dark and chill, Which used in happier days to speak, Come with a smile that dims the sun! With pitying heart and gentle hand! And waft me, from a work that's done, To peace that waits on thy command, In God's mysterious better land! WILLIAM WINTER. [U. S. A.] AZRAEL. COMEwith a smile, when come thou must, Long in those awful eyes I quail, Nor any light, nor any sound, Only two still and steady rays, That drinks my being, drop by drop, JOAQUIN MILLER. [U. s. A.] FROM "WALKER IN NICARAGUA.” SUCCESS had made him more than king; Say this much, and be satisfied. I lay this crude wreath on his dust, He lies low in the levelled sand, A weakness for the weaker side, A palm not far held out a hand; No sod, no sign, no cross nor stone, But at his side a cactus green Upheld its lances long and keen; It stood in hot red sands alone, Flat-palmed and fierce with lifted spears; One bloom of crimson crowned its head, A drop of blood, so bright, so red, Yet redolent as roses' tears. In my left hand I held a shell, All rosy lipped and pearly red; I laid it by his lowly bed, For he did love so passing well The grand songs of the solemn sea. O shell! sing well, wild, with a will, When storms blow hard and birds be still, The wildest sea-song known to thee! I said some things, with folded hands, Brave old water-dogs, wed to the sea, First to their labors and last to their rests. Ships are moving! I hear a horn; Over the sea, and reaching away, The east is blossoming! Yea, a rose, And my rose-leaves fall into billows of fire. a sea; Then lances and arrows are aimed at me. Then lances and spangles and spars and bars Are broken and shivered and strown on the sea; And around and about me tower and spire Start from the billows like tongues of fire. SUNRISE IN VENICE. NIGHT seems troubled and scarce asleep; White as my lilies that grow in the west. breasts; Barefooted fishermen seeking their boats, Brown as walnuts and hairy as goats, |