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HARK! HARK! THE LARK AT HEAVEN'S GATE SINGS.

&

ARK! hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings,

And Phoebus 'gins arise,

His steeds to water at those springs

On chaliced flowers that lies;

And winking Mary-buds begin
To ope their golden eyes;

With everything that pretty bin,
My lady sweet, arise.

WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE.

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Tired of the hollow, the base, the untrue,
Mother, O mother, my heart calls for you!
Many a summer the grass has grown green,
Blossomed, and faded our faces between,
Yet with strong yearning and passionate pain
Long I to-night for your presence again.
Come from the silence so long and so deep; -
Rock me to sleep, mother, -rock me to sleep!

Over my heart, in the days that are flown,
No love like mother-love ever has shone;
No other worship abides and endures, —
Faithful, unselfish, and patient, like yours:
None like a mother can charm away pain
From the sick soul and the world-weary brain.
Slumber's soft calms o'er my heavy lids creep;―
Rock me to sleep, mother, -rock me to sleep!

Come, let your brown hair, just lighted with gold,
Fall on your shoulders again as of old;
Let it drop over my forehead to-night,
Shading my faint eyes away from the light;
For with its sunny-edged shadows once more
Haply will throng the sweet visions of yore;
Lovingly, softly, its bright billows sweep; -
Rock me to sleep, mother, — rock me to sleep!
Mother, dear mother, the years have been long
Since I last listened your lullaby song:
Sing, then, and unto my soul it shall seem
Womanhood's years have been only a dream.
Clasped to your heart in a loving embrace,
With your light lashes just sweeping your face,
Never hereafter to wake or to weep;

Rock me to sleep, mother, -rock me to sleep!
ELIZABETH AKERS ALLEN (Florence Percy).

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Its dearest tokens only make me mourn;
Oh! let its memory, like a chain about thee,
Gently compel and hasten thy return.

Linger not long! Linger not long! though crowds should woo thy staying,

Bethink thee, can the mirth of friends, though dear, Compensate for the grief thy long delaying

Costs the sad heart that sighs to have thee here? Linger not long!

Linger not long! How shall I watch thy coming, As evening shadows stretch o'er moor and deliWhen the wild bee hath ceased her busy humming, And silence hangs on all things like a spell?

Linger not long!

How shall I watch for thee when fears grow

stronger,

As night draws dark and darker on the hill? How shall I weep, when I can watch no longer? Oh! thou art absent-art thou absent still?

Linger not long!

Yet though I dream not, though the eye that seeth thee

Gazeth through tears that make its splendor dull, For oh! I sometimes fear, when thou art with me, My cup of happiness is all too full!

Linger not long! Haste-haste thee home unto thy mountain dwelling; Haste as a bird unto its peaceful nest! Haste as a skiff, when tempests wild are swelling, Flies to its haven of securest rest!

Linger not long.

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OVE is enough. Let us not seek for gold. Wealth breeds false aims, and pride and selfishness;

In those serene, Arcadian days of old,
Men gave no thought to princely homes and dress.
The gods who dwelt in fair Olympia's height,
Lived only for dear love and love's delight;
Love is enough.

Love is enough. Why should we care for fame?
Ambition is a most unpleasant guest:

It lures us with the glory of a name

Far from the happy haunts of peace and rest.
Let us stay here in this secluded place,
Made beautiful by love's endearing grace;
Love is enough.

Love is enough. Why should we strive for power?
It brings men only envy and distrust;
The poor world's homage pleases but an hour,
And earthly honors vanish in the dust.
The grandest lives are ofttimes desolate;
Let me be loved, and let who will be great;
Love is enough.

Love is enough. Why should we ask for more?
What greater gift have gods vouchsafed to men?
What better boon of all their precious store
Than our fond hearts that love and love again?
Old love may die; new love is just as sweet;
And life is fair, and all the world complete;
Love is enough.

ELLA WHEELER.

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