Gaze upon her living eyes,

And mirror back her love for thee: Hereafter thou may'st shudder sighs To meet them when they cannot see. Gaze upon her living eyes!

Press her lips the while they glow

With love that they have often told: Hereafter thou may'st press in woe, And kiss. them till thine own are cold. Press her lips the while they glow!

Oh, revere her raven hair!

Although it be not silver-gray, Too early Death, led on by Care, May snatch save one dear lock away Oh, revere her raven hair!

There's a laughter-loving spirit

Glancing from the soft blue eyes, Flashing through the pearly tear-drops, Changing like the summer skies, Lurking in each roguish dimple,

Nestling in each ringlet fair;
Over all the little child-face

Gleaming, glancing everywhere.
They all win our smiles and kisses
In a thousand pleasant ways
By the sweet, bewitching beauty

Of their sunny upward gaze;
And we cannot help but love them

When their young lips meet our own, And the magic of their presence

Round about our hearts is thrown.
When they ask us curious questions
In a sweet, confiding way,
We can only smile in wonder,

Hardly knowing what to say;
As they sit in breathless silence,

Waiting for our kind replies, What a world of mystic meaning Dwells within the lifted eyes! When the soul, all faint and weary,

Falters in the upward way, And the clouds around us gather,

Shutting out each starry ray, Then the merry voice of childhood Seems a soft and soothing strain; List we to its silvery cadence,

And our hearts grow glad again. Hath this world of ours no angels?

Do our dimly-shaded eyes Ne'er behold the seraph's glory

In its meek and lowly guise? Can we see the little children,

Ever beautiful and mild, And again repeat the story, "Nothing but a little child?"

L. A. BOILS.

Full of kindness tingling,

Soul is shut from soul, When they might be mingling In one kindred whole. There's no dearth of kindness,

Though it be unspoken: From the heart it buildeth

Rainbow smiles in token That there be none so lowly

But have some angel-touch, Yet, nursing loves unholy,

We live for self too much.

As the wild rose bloweth,

As runs the happy river, Kindness freely floweth

In the heart for ever; But if men will hanker

Ever for golden dust,
Kindliest hearts will canker,
Brightest spirits rust.

There's no dearth of kindness
In this world of ours,
Only in our blindness

We gather thorns for flowers. Oh, cherish God's best giving, Falling from above :

Life were not worth living

Were it not for love.

TRUTH.

GERALD MASSEY.

TRUTH

Comes to us with a slow and doubtful step,
Measuring the ground she treads on and for ever
Turning her curious eye to see that all
Is right behind, and with a keen survey
Choosing her onward path..

JAMES GATIS PERCIVAL.

FROM THE ITALIAN OF TORQUATO TASSO.

TRANSLATED IN THE

savage king

And lay within thy mosque.

source

Of magic shall frame spells of power so grand