mixing the wail of humiliation with that of indignation-like the remnants of a defeated army, hotly pursued. It is this life that cries out in the disordered verses, and these have a responsive cry of their own].

ONE YEAR AGO.

IN feeling I was but a child

When first we met-one year ago;
As free and guileless as the bird

That roams the dreary woodland through.

My heart was all a pleasant world

Of sunbeams dewed with April tears:
Life's brightest page was turned to me,
And nought I read of doubts or fears.

We met-we loved-one year ago,
Beneath the stars of summer skies:
Alas! I knew not then, as now,
The darkness of life's mysteries.

You took my hand-one year ago,
Beneath the azure dome above;
And, gazing on the stars, you told
The trembling story of your love.

I gave to you, one year ago,
The only jewel that was mine:
My heart took off her lovely crown,
And all her riches gave to thine.

You loved me too when first we met;
Your tender kisses told me so.

How changed you are from what you were
In life and love-one year ago!

With mocking words and cold neglect
My truth and passion are repaid;
And of a soul once fresh with love
A dreary desert you have made.

Why did you fill my youthful life

With such wild dreams of hope and bliss?

Why did you say you loved me then,
If it were all to end in this?

You robbed me of my faith and trust
In all life's beauty-love and truth;
You left me nothing-nothing save
A hopeless, blighted, dreamless youth.

Strike if you will, and let the stroke
Be heavy as my weight of woe:
I shall not shrink-my heart is cold;
"Tis broken since one year ago.

ASPIRATION.

POOR impious Soul, that fixes its high hopes
In the dim distance, on a throne of clouds,
And from the morning's mist would make the ropes
To draw it up amid acclaim of crowds--

Beware! That soaring path is lined with shrouds;
And he who braves it, though of sturdy breath,
May meet half-way the avalanche and death.

O poor young Soul, whose year-devouring glance Fixes in ecstacy upon a star

(Whose feverish brilliance looks a part of earth, Yet quivers where the feet of angels are,

And seems the future crown in realms afar)— Beware! a spark thou art, and dost but see Thine own reflection in eternity.

INFELIX.

WHERE is the promise of my years,
Once written on my brow-

Ere errors, agonies, and fears,

Brought with them all that speaks in tears,—
Ere I had sunk beneath my peers?

Where sleeps that promise now?

Nought lingers to redeem those hours,
Still, still to memory sweet!

The flowers that bloomed in sunny bowers
Are withered all; and Evil towers
Supreme above her sister powers
Of Sorrow and Deceit.

I look along the columned years,
And see Life's riven fane,
Just where it fell, amid the jeers
Of scornful lips, whose mocking sneers
For ever hiss within mine ears

To break the sleep of pain.

I can but own my life is vain,
A desert void of peace.

I missed the goal I sought to gain;
I missed the measure of the strain
That lulls Fame's fever in the brain,
And bids earth's tumult cease.

Myself! alas for theme so poor—
A theme but rich in fear!
I stand a wreck on Error's shore-
A spectre not within the door-
A houseless shadow evermore—
An exile lingering here!

IN from the night.—

ANSWER ME.

The storm is lifting his black arms up to the sky. Friend of my heart, who so gently mark'st out the lifetrack for me, draw near to-night.

Forget the wailing of the low-voiced wind:

Shut out the moanings of the freezing and the starving and the dying, and bend your head low to me.

Clasp my cold, cold hands in yours;

Think of me tenderly and lovingly.

Look down into my eyes the while I question you; and, if you love me, answer me

Oh! answer me!

Is there not a gleam of peace on all this tiresome earth? Does not one oasis cheer all this desert-world?

When will all this toil and pain bring me the blessing? Must I ever plead for help to do the work before me set?

Must I ever stumble and faint by the dark wayside?
Oh the dark lonely wayside, with its dim-sheeted ghosts
peering up through their shallow graves !

Must I ever tremble and pale at the great Beyond?
Must I find rest only in your bosom, as now I do?
Answer me-

Oh! answer me!

Speak to me tenderly

Think of me lovingly.

Let your soft hands smooth back my hair;
Take my cold tear-stained face up to yours.

Let my lonely life creep into your warm bosom, knowing no other rest but this.

Let me question you, while sweet Faith and Trust are folding their white robes around me.

Thus am I purified, even to your love, that came like John the Baptist in the wilderness of Sin.

You read the starry heavens, and lead me forth. But tell me if, in this world's Judea, there comes never quiet when once the heart awakes.

Why must it ever hush Love back?

Must it only labour, strive, and ache?

Has it no reward but this?

Has it no inheritance but to bear-and break?
Answer me-

Oh! answer me !

The storm struggles with the darkness.

Folded away in your arms, how little do I heed their battle!

The trees clash in vain their naked swords against the

door.

I go not forth while the low murmur of drifting all else back to silence.

your voice is

The Darkness presses his black forehead close to the window-pane, and beckons me without.

Love holds a lamp in this little room that hath power to blot back Fear.

But will the lamp ever starve for oil?

Will its blood-red flame ever grow faint and blue?

Will it uprear itself to a slender line of light?

Will it grow pallid and motionless?

Will it sink rayless to everlasting death?

Answer me

Oh! answer me!

Look at these tear-drops:

See how they quiver and die on your open hands. Fold these white garments close to my breast, while I question you.

Would you have me think that from the warm shelter of your heart I must go to the grave?

And, when I am lying in my silent shroud, will you love me?

When I am buried down in the cold wet earth, will you grieve that you did not save me?

Will your tears reach my pale face through all the withered leaves that will heap themselves upon my grave?

Will you repent that you loosened your arms to let me fall so deep, and so far out of sight?

Will you come and tell me so when the coffin has shut out the storm?

Answer me

Oh! answer me!