— Marriage is friendship, — but it adds a higher
â?ƒAnd nobler sweetness to the friendly phase;
Touches emotion with diviner fire,
â?ƒAnd wreathes pale crowns with crimson blossom-sprays.
Something supremely sweet and pure it brings,
â?ƒYet all the sacred gifts that friendship brought
Are still included. — She . —
— Necklaces and rings
â?ƒAnd bracelets seem to me the gifts most sought
By average brides; and by the average man — — He . —
â?ƒ — Yes, that is just the sorrow and the curse —
The misery, the grief, the bitter ban,

O Lord! my bosom heaves with fears,
Mine eyes are quench'd with constant tears;
My friends forsake, my patrons flee,
My kinsmen dread my face to see.

With snares and fraud and cruel strife,
My foes conspire against my life;
I totter on the brink of death,
And constant anguish wastes my breath.

On thee, O Lord, my God! I wait,
To plead my cause against the great;
Let not my lordly foes exult,
And in my bondage thee insult.

Forsake me not, O Lord, my God!
I seek thine all-sustaining rod;

Why do you love me? — He . —
— For your coal-black hair
â?ƒThat brings before my eyes the passionate South:
Because, although my lips in song despair,
â?ƒHope thrills them at the touching of your mouth.
Because, when life was weary and at an end,
â?ƒLike the bright soul of very Spring you came,
Sister and love, a sweetheart in a friend,
â?ƒAnd fanned with girlish breath joy's flickering flame
And so I love you. — She . —
— Will your love abide
â?ƒStedfast and faithful, since we cannot be
Sweetheart and lover, husband and fair bride,

Three years ago you asked for fairy-lore;
Three years ago, three wild strange years or more,
With girlish laughter
You revelled in the fairy-tales I brought.
We only dreamed of love. We guessed not aught
Of all life's pain and strife that followed after.

To-day, again, you say “Bring fairy-tales.”
Yes, you are right. Whatever woe assails
Wall, beam and rafter,
Of the frail house of life, it still is well
As far as may be in the realm to dwell
Of love and fairy-dreams and young light laughter.

When womanhood is loved by manhood with the tender
Love wherewith I love thee, when manhood's heart can render
Homage to her like this,
The world will be redeemed. When woman's soul can fashion
In the deep heart of man a stainless worldwide passion,
Evil will flee before their stainless kiss.

This waits,—that every heart of woman win the power
To be to some one man his pure immortal flower,
His holiest pride and bliss
When womanhood is loved, as I love thee, the yearning
Of earth will be fulfilled, and man's will give the burning

In the Manner of O VID .

In fruitful C LYDESDALE stands my native seat,
Mean, but not sordid, tho' not spacious, neat;
In C LYDESDALE , noted for its lovely dames,
And meadows, water'd with irrugnous streams;
For juicy apples, and for mellow pears,
Firm-footed horses and laborious steers:
In vain! would Phaebus cleave the earth with heat,
Or scorching S IRIUS desolation threat;
In vernal pride still smiles the varied scene,
The fields still flourish, and the grass is green;

Oh, this I say of thee, that thy sweet face,
When passion else were undisputed king,
Reminds me ever of a fairer thing
Than passion, — even love, whose gentle grace
Fills as with shine of flowers each barren place
And makes the birdless sunless mountains sing

Thou bringest back to me, O love divine,
O gentle girl-heart full of God indeed,
Hope, and a tenderer higher nobler creed
Thou makest this despairing soul of mine
Just for one moment bright-hued even as thine:
Thou hast the power to lift and power to lead

O'er every common task Love casts a glow
Of pleasure, and a sacred healing calm,
As o'er the garden paths the rose-trees throw
Their petals, and their tender odorous balm:
O'er each day's common toil Love flings a light
Delicious, and a hope of fairer things, —
As in the ancients' dreams a heavenly sprite
Hovered above the good with golden wings.

When I am quite engulfed in common toil,
I faint not, lady, — but I think of thee,
And fear not lest my paltry labour soil
The silver-shining plumes of Poesy;

As we grow older, life grows more divine:
Slow word by word and tedious line by line
We learn the next world's lore.
Then all our hearts are changed, the temporal ends;
We bid farewell to old, we make new friends
Upon the eternal shore.

Wife, mother, brother, sister, father, these
Pass, like the passing of a summer breeze;
The soul is that which stays.
No local earthly frail relationship
Hallowed by grasp of hand or touch of lip
Defies the fleeting days.

Our personality grows wholly new, —

At winter's numbing touch, the fields
Lie wither'd to a waste;
The trees their naked boughs extend,
Obnoxious to the blast.

The lifeless leaves blow here and there,
The sport of ev'ry wind;
And here and there the wood-birds flit,
But can no shelter find.

The skirting mountains, lately ting'd
With azure's airy hue,
In winter's hoary mantle clad,
Rise dazzling to the view.

Love, erst admirer of the plain,
To cottages retires,
Prevents the slumbers of the maid,
And kindles warm desires.