Ο

MAUDE CLARE.

UT of the church she followed them
With a lofty step and mien :

His bride was like a village maid,
Maude Clare was like a queen.

"Son Thomas," his lady mother said,
With smiles, almost with tears:
"May Nell and you but live as true
As we have done for years;

"Your father thirty years ago
Had just your tale to tell;
But he was not so pale as you,
Nor I so pale as Nell."

My lord was pale with inward strife,
And Nell was pale with pride;
My lord gazed long on pale Maude Clare
Or ever he kissed the bride.

"Lo, I have brought my gift, my lord, Have brought my gift," she said:

"To bless the hearth, to bless the board, To bless the marriage-bed.

"Here's my half of the golden chain
You wore about your neck,
That day we waded ankle-deep
For lilies in the beck:

"Here's my half of the faded leaves
We plucked from budding bough,
With feet amongst the lily-leaves,-
The lilies are budding now."

He strove to match her scorn with scorn,
He faltered in his place :

"Lady," he said, "Maude Clare," he said, "Maude Clare":

- and hid his face.

She turned to Nell: "My Lady Nell,

I have a gift for you ;

Though, were it fruit, the bloom were gone,
Or, were it flowers, the dew.

Take my share of a fickle heart,

Mine of a paltry love :

Take it or leave it as you will,

I wash my hands thereof.”

"And what you leave," said Nell, “I'll take, And what you spurn, I'll wear;

For he 's my lord for better and worse,

And him I love, Maude Clare.

"Yea, though you 're taller by the head,
More wise, and much more fair ;
I'll love him till he loves me best,
Me best of all, Maude Clare."

ECHO.

OME to me in the silence of the night;

COM

Come in the speaking silence of a dream ; Come with soft rounded cheeks and eyes as bright As sunlight on a stream;

Come back in tears,

O memory, hope, love of finished years.

O dream how sweet, too sweet, too bitter sweet, Whose wakening should have been in Paradise, Where souls brimful of love abide and meet; Where thirsting longing eyes

Watch the slow door

That opening, letting in, lets out no more.

Yet come to me in dreams, that I may live
My very life again though cold in death:
Come back to me in dreams, that I may give
Pulse for pulse, breath for breath:

Speak low, lean low,

As long ago, my love, how long ago!

I

WINTER: MY SECRET.

TELL my secret? No indeed, not I:
Perhaps some day, who knows?

But not to-day; it froze, and blows, and snows,

And you're too curious: fie!

You want to hear it? well :

Only, my secret 's mine, and I won't tell.

Or, after all, perhaps there 's none :
Suppose there is no secret after all,
But only just my fun.

To-day's a nipping day, a biting day;
In which one wants a shawl,

A veil, a cloak, and other wraps :

I cannot ope to every one who taps,

And let the draughts come whistling through my hall Come bounding and surrounding me,

Come buffeting, astounding me,

Nipping and clipping through my wraps and all.

I wear my mask for warmth: who ever shows

His nose to Russian snows

To be pecked at by every wind that blows?

You would not peck? I thank you for good-will,
Believe, but leave that truth untested still.

Spring's an expansive time: yet I don't trust March with its peck of dust,

Nor April with its rainbow-crowned brief showers, Nor even May, whose flowers

One frost may wither through the sunless hours.

Perhaps some languid summer day, When drowsy birds sing less and less, And golden fruit is ripening to excess,

If there's not too much sun nor too much cloud, And the warm wind is neither still nor loud, Perhaps my secret I may say,

Or you may guess.

I

ANOTHER SPRING.

F I might see another Spring

I'd not plant summer flowers and wait :

I'd have my crocuses at once,

My leafless pink mezereons,

My chill-veined snowdrops, choicer yet
My white or azure violet,
Leaf-nested primrose; anything

To blow at once not late.

If I might see another Spring

I'd listen to the daylight birds
That build their nests and pair and sing,
Nor wait for mateless nightingale ;

I'd listen to the lusty herds,

The ewes with lambs as white as snow,