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Coquetting all day with the sunbeams,
And stealing their golden edge; Not for the vines on the upland,
Where the bright red berries rest, Nor the pinks, nor the pale sweet cowslip,
It seemeth to me the best.
I once had a little brother,
With eyes that were dark and deep;
He lieth in peace asleep:
Free as the winds that blow,
The summers of long ago;
And, one of the autumn eves,
A bed of the yellow leaves. Sweetly his pale arms folded
My neck in a meek embrace, As the light of immortal beauty
Silently covered his face; And when the arrows of sunset
Lodged in the tree-tops bright, He fell, in his saint-like beauty,
As.eep by the gates of light. There ore, of all the pictures
Tha; hang on Memory's wall, The one of the dim old forest Seem th the best of all.
BY PHEBE CARY
One sweetly solemn thought
Comes to me o'er and o'er; I am nearer home to-day
Than I ever have been before;
Nearer my Father's house,
Where the many mansions be; Nearer the great white throne,
Nearer the crystal sea;
Nearer the bound of life,
Where we lay our burdens down; Nearer leaving the cross,
Nearer gaining the crown!
But the waves of that silent sea
Roll dark before my sight That brightly the other side
Break on a shore of light.
O, if my mortal feet
Have almost gained the brink; If it be I am nearer home
Even to-day than I think,
Father, perfect my trust!
Let my spirit feel, in death,
THE MUSINGS OF ARROYO AL
BY ARTHUR CHAPMAN
It seems to me this life we lead
Is jest like that in Cattle Land; A few wild critters will stampede
A quiet and contented band; And find out what the trouble was! And can't, because there ain't no cause.
One bawlin' critter in the herd
Kin do much damage on a drive; His locoed doin's is absurd.
And at the market — man alive! That critter that has scairt the bunch Don't fetch enough to buy a lunch.
They has to be, it seems to me,
These locoed steers and locoed men. But think how easy life'd be
If, when they bawl and bawl again, The herd'd stand there, as it shud, And jest take fresh holt on its cud!
BY MINNIE CONWAY
To-night, as I sat by my window,
As the west was all agleam With that strange and wonderful splendor That is fleeting as a dream,
I thought that the hands of angels
Had swung heaven's gateway wide, And I caught some glimpse of the glory
From the hills on the other side.
Is it not a beautiful fancy,
This sunset thought of mine,
Swung open at day's decline
Of earthly woes and ills
That dwells on the heavenly hills?
Perhaps while I sat there dreaming
Of the gateway in the west,
To a long and endless rest.
To the city paved with gold,
To be no longer old.
When for me the sunset gateway
Shall at day's decline unclose, And I enter through its portals
To a long and sweet repose, I know I shall remember
In that land so fair and far My strange and beautiful fancy Of the sunset gates ajar.
THE OLD ARM-CHAIR
BY ELIZA COOK
I love it, I love it! and who shall dare
In childhood's hour I lingered near
I sat, and watched her many a day,