DREAMS.

BY ANNA MARIA WELLS.

I DREAMED my dearest friend before me lay,

With pallid cheek, and lips whence came no breath, And eyes that gazed, — yet nothing seemed to say,

Save that the soul had been displaced by Death!
Ah me, what sense of sweet relief, when day
Chased the dark spirit of that dream! and how
My heart within my bosom leaped, when dawn
Brought back reality, and that sad dream was gone.

Again

within a rustic porch, we two

Were standing hand in hand;-thick woven bowers
Of leaves and odorous blossoms round us threw

A quiet shade, and at our feet were flowers.
Then, with a serious look, but fond and true,
He turned to me, and said, "This spot is ours;
We ne'er shall part again." Why did I deem
Such bliss were truly mine?

Alas! it was a dream.

Our dreams! what are they?
Like soft but subtle dews upon the flower,
They chill the heart they only seem to heal.
Old age forgets its weakness for the hour!

What do they reveal?

Down the closed lids the tears of beauty steal,

And slumbering childhood's start betrays their power.
Still they, unchecked, "abuse the curtained sleep,"
Or from unreal joys we only wake to weep.

THE BALLAD OF THE STRANGER.

BY J. R. LOWELL.

THE wind is moaning sadly among the pine trees high,But that was not it, surely, so like a human sigh.

Her list'ning face she lifted, put back her scattered hair, And, in the growing twilight, she saw her loved one there.

"Why cam'st thou not more early? Where tarried'st thou so long?

I have waited thee from sunset till dusky even-song;

"The stars came out so slowly! It was a weary time; I almost thought I never should hear the vesper chime.

"And I have had strange fancies, dim thoughts that seemed like fears,

Not sad,-yet, when they left me, mine eyes were salt with tears;

"I thought of my dead mother, her pale face I could see Between me and the starlight, as if she waited me ; —

"Now, wherefore, blessed mother, say wherefore art thou here?

Most sure, if I had sinned, my heart would chill with fear.'

“Her lips moved not to answer, but glimmered with a

smile,

That seemed to say, 'my daughter, wait yet a little while.'

"With that no more I saw her; the Pleiades alone all dim and misty, as through my tears they shone.

I saw,

“And now, when thou art with me, when I should be most glad,

I yet do feel a something that makes me well nigh sad.

"Why lookest thou so mournful? Such face to thee is

new;

And why dost thou not kiss me, as thou art used to do?"

Long time his lips seemed moving, as if unwont to speak, And, when at length he answered, his voice was dim and weak.

"Now, dearest, if thou'lt listen, I will make plain the truth;

As I to thee did hasten, I met a stranger youth;

"He seemed of other country, and he was pale and fair; His eyes were very mournful, yet kind as thine eyes are ;

"He sang to me full sweetly the songs of his own clime, And, all along, the music interpreted the rhyme;

"They were of unknown language, yet ever, more and

more,

They grew to sound like something that I had heard before;

"His face did shine so brightly, he sang so silverly,
I knew he was an angel come down for love of me,-

"A mild and gentle spirit, and in his earnest eyes I read the seeming riddle of all life's mysteries.

"His voice went through and through me, it was so soft and low,

And it was very mournful, but not as if with woe;

"The voices of the lost ones, of those who've gone be

fore,

Seemed woven with it strangely to charm me more and

more.

“With his mild eyes he drew me, he took me by the

hand,

I could not choose but follow into his pleasant land;

"And so with him I journeyed, in that fair clime to dwell,

But of its wondrous beauty only that youth can tell;

"The gate whereby we entered, it is both green and low, And up beyond the church door 'tis scarcely a stone's throw.

"I shall be with thee often, but never as before,

For I wear not the vestments of clay which once I wore ;

"We will not break our troth plight, though time can never bring

The day when I may claim thee, to wed thee with a

ring;

"For that kind youth hath promised that, on a certain

day,

He will go forth and bring thee to dwell with me alway."

His words to silence faded, when he so far had said, And mingled with the murmur of the pine trees overhead.

She did not sink with sorrow, nor weep when he was

gone,

But patiently she waited until five moons had shone.

She kept her ever ready to greet the stranger youth,
Drest in her wedding garment of purity and truth.

And, when those days were numbered, the stranger

came once more,

With gentlest look, to lead her in at the low, green door;

With joy she gave him welcome, all robed in snowy

white,

Her heart had told her surely that he would come that night;

A bridal wreath of amaranth he twined about her head, And then the fair betrothed all silently forth led.