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"And the steed it shall be shod

All in silver, housed in azure,

And the mane shall swim the wind: And the hoofs, along the sod, Shall flash onward and keep measure, Till the shepherds look behind.

"But my lover will not prize All the glory that he rides in, When he gazes in my face:

He will say, 'O Love, thine eyes Build the shrine my soul abides in; And I kneel here for thy gracc.'

"Then, ay, ther- he shall kneel low, With the red-roan steed anear him, Which shall seem to understand

Till I answer, 'Rise, and go !'
For the world must love and fear him
Whom I gift with heart and hand.

“Then he will arise so pale, I shall feel my own lips tremble With a yes I must not say

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Nathless maiden-brave, Farewell,'

I will utter and dissemble

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"Then he'll ride among the hills
To the wide world past the river,
There to put away all wrong:
To make straight distorted wills,
And to empty the broad quiver

Which the wicked bear along.

“Three times shall a young foot-page Swim the stream and climb the mountain, And kneel down beside my feet

'Lo! my master sends this gage, Lady, for thy pity's counting!

What wilt thou exchange for it?'

"And the first time I will send
A white rose-bud for a guerdon, -
And the second time a glove:
But the third time - I may bend
From my pride, and answer 'Pardon
If he comes to take my love.'

"Then the young foot-page will run

Then my lover will ride faster,
Till he kneeleth at my knee :

'I am a duke's eldest son ! Thousand serfs do call me master, But, O Love, I love but thee!'

"He will kiss me on the mouth

Then; and lead me as a lover,

Through the crowds that praise his deeds; And, when soul-tied by one troth,

Unto him I will discover

That swan's nest among the reeds."

Little Ellie, with her smile

Not yet ended, rose up gayly,

Tied the bonnet, donned the shoe -
And went homeward, round a mile,

Just to see, as she did daily,

What more eggs were with the two.

Pushing through the elm-tree copse
Winding by the stream, light-hearted,
Where the ozier pathway leads

Past the boughs she stoops-and stops!
Lo the wild swan had deserted
And a rat had gnawed the reeds.

Ellie went home sad and slow : If she found the lover ever,

With his red-roan steed of steeds, Sooth, I know not! but I know She could never show him- never, That swan's nest among the reeds.

-Elizabeth Barrett Browning.

A MASQUERADE.

A LITTLE old woman before me
Went slowly down the street;
Walking as if aweary

Were her feeble, tottering feet.

From under her old poke bonnet
I caught a gleam of snow,
And her waving cap string floated,
Like a pennon, to and fro.

In the folds of her rusty mantle
Sudden her footstep caught,

And I sprang to keep her from falling,

With a touch as quick as thought.

When, under the old poke bonnet,
I saw a winsome face,

Framed in with the flaxen ringlets
Of my wee daughter Grace.

Mantle and cap together

Dropped off at my very feet;
And there stood the little fairy,
Beautiful, blushing, sweet!

Will it be like this, I wonder,
When at last we come to stand
On the golden, ringing pavement
Of the blessed, blessed land?

Losing the rusty garments

We wore in the years of Time,
Will our better selves spring backward,
Serene in a youth sublime?

Instead of the shapes that hid us,
And made us old and gray,

Shall we get our child-hearts back again,
With a brightness that will stay?

I thought-but my little daughter Slipped her dimpled hand in mine; "I was only playing," she whispered, "That I was ninety-nine."

LITTLE SORROW.

AMONG the thistles on the hill,
In tears, sat little Sorrow;
"I see a black cloud in the west,

'T will bring a storm to-morrow.

And when it storms, where shall I be? And what will keep the rain from me?

Woe's me!" said Little Sorrow.

"But now the air is soft and sweet, The sunshine bright," said Pleasure; "Here is my pipe, if you will dance,

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I'll wake my merriest measure; Or, if you chose, we'll sit beneath

The red rose tree, and twine a wreath; Come, come with me!" said Pleasure.

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"O, I want neither dance nor flowers, They're not for me," said Sorrow, "When that black cloud is in the west, And it will storm to-morrow! And if it storm, what shall I do? I have no heart to play with you, Go! go!" said Little Sorrow.

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