Opening one day a book of mine, I absent, Hester found a line Praised with a pencil-mark, and th… She left transfigured with a kiss. When next upon the page I chance,

I.AGASSIZ Come Dicesti _egli… The electric nerve, whose instanta… Makes next-door gossips of the ant… Confutes poor Hope’s last fallacy… The distance that divided her from…

The rich man’s son inherits lands, And piles of brick and stone, and… And he inherits soft white hands, And tender flesh that fears the co… Nor dares to wear a garment old;

The Maple puts her corals on in M… While loitering frosts about the l… To be in tune with what the robins… Plastering new log-huts 'mid her b… But when the Autumn southward tur…

Two fellers, Isrel named and Joe, One Sundy mornin’ 'greed to go Agunnin’ soon 'z the bells wuz don… And meetin’ finally begun, So’st no one wouldn’t be about

Thy voice is like a fountain, Leaping up in clear moonshine; Silver, silver, ever mounting, Ever sinking, Without thinking,

I cannot say a scene is fair Because it is beloved of thee But I shall love to linger there, For sake of thy dear memory; I would not be so coldly just

Untremulous in the river clear, Toward the sky’s image, hangs the… So still the air that I can hear The slender clarion of the unseen… Out of the stillness, with a gathe…

Guvener B. is a sensible man; He stays to his home an’ looks art… He draws his furrer ez straight ez… An’ into nobody’s tater-patch poke… But John P.

Hers is a spirit deep, and crystal… Calmly beneath her earnest face it… Free without boldness, meek withou… Quicker to look than speak its sym… Far down into her large and patien…

THOUGH old the thought and oft… ’Tis his at last who says it best, I’ll try my fortune with the rest. Life is a leaf of paper white Whereon each one of us may write

They are slaves who fear to speak, For the fallen and the weak; They are slaves who will not choos… Hatred, scoffing and abuse; Rather than in silence shrink,

Worn and footsore was the Prophet… When he gained the holy hill; ‘God has left the earth,’ he murmu… ‘Here his presence lingers still. ’God of all the olden prophets,

Sleep is Death’s image,-poets tel… But Absence is the bitter self of… And, you away, Life’s lips their… Parched in an air unfreshened by y… Light of those eyes that made the…

There came a youth upon the earth, Some thousand years ago, Whose slender hands were nothing w… Whether to plow, to reap, or sow. Upon an empty tortoise-shell