Should betray thee when sorrows like clouds Light is my heart since the day we were Should they who are dearest-the son of thy I'll fetch from the mountain its breeze to heart, The wife of thy bosom-in sorrow depart, Look aloft from the darkness and dust of the tomb To that soil where affection is ever in bloom. inspire you; And oh, when Death comes in his terrors to cast I'll His fears on the future, his pall on the past, armor; sing you sweet songs till the stars rise above me, In that moment of darkness, with hope in Then, wandering, I'll wish you in silence to thy heart And a smile in thine eye, look aloft and depart. COME JONATHAN LAWRENCE. THE WELCOME. love me. We'll look through the trees at the cliff and the eyrie; We'll tread round the rath on the track of the fairy; river, OME in the evening or come in the We'll look on the stars, and we'll list to the morning, Come when you're looked for or come with- Till you ask of your darling what gift you out warning, can give her. Kisses and welcome you'll find here before Oh, she'll whisper you, "Love as unchangeably beaming, you; And the oftener you come here, the more I'll And trust, when in secret, most tunefully streaming, adore you. Till the starlight of heaven above us shall If with no lawless fire it gleamed, quiver But through the dews of kindness beamed, As our souls flow in one down eternity's That eye shall be for ever bright river." When stars and sun are sunk in night. So come in the evening or come in the morn- Within this hollow cavern hung you; And the oftener you come here, the more I'll This silent tongue shall plead for thee adore you. The palaces of Araby! Oh, still there is a dream, The man of God will pass the Sabbath noon; A vision, on my brain of all as long extinct Silence his praise, his disembodied thoughts, and dim; They rise upon my fancy yet, vast, beautiful | That dream hath fled, that pageant passed: Unreal things and vain, and grand, As in past centuries they stood through all Why rise ye up so vividly, so brightly, to that radiant land. The palaces of Araby! Pale forms of marble mould Were ranged in every stately hall, white, glittering and cold, And urns of massive crystal bright stood on each marble floor, The my brain? desert hath no palaces, the sands no fountain-stream, And the brave and beautiful are frail and shadowy as my dream. The palaces of Araby! Oh, there is not a stone Where odors of a thousand lands burned To mark the splendor and the pride for ever And the gleaming of uncounted geins and Lost Araby, lost Araby, the world's extinthe blaze of odorous light guished light, Streamed down from every fretted dome Thou liest dark and desolate, a thing of shame magnificently bright. I see them now-" so fancy deems"-those bright Arabian girls Binding with glittering gems and flowers their dark and flowing curls, Or sweeping with their long rich robes throughout those marble halls, Or holding in their rose-clad bowers gay, gorgeous festivals. I see them now-" so fancy deems "-those warriors high and bold Draining their draughts of ruby wine from cups of massive gold, Or dashing on their battle-steeds like meteors to the war With the dazzling gleam of helm and shield and jewelled scimitar. and blight; Rome hath her lofty ruins yet; Greece smiles amid her tears: In thee alone we find no trace, no wreck, of other years. CATHERINE A. WARFIELD and ELEANOR P. LEE. MUSIC. H, lull me, lull me, charming air; My senses rock with wonder sweet! Grief who need fear That hath an ear? Down let him lie, And slumbering die, And change his soul for harmony. WILLIAM STRODE. tears Counted my moments through the blessed day. And then to this there was a dull, strange ache For ever sleeping in my breast-a numbing pain That would not for an instant be forgot. More is my shame I made excuses for him: "Just this or that had forced him to the course: Perhaps he loved me yet-a little yet. yes, Giuseppe loved me!" But at last And turned and whispered Dora, and she laughed. Ah! then I saw it all. I've been awake GEORGE H. BOKER. WARDEN, KEEP A PLACE FOR ME. INCIDENT OF PRISON LIFE IN THE KINGS COUNTY PENITENTIARY. ISCHARGED again! Yes, I am free, But, warden, keep a place for me; For freedom means that I must go Out in the wind and rain and snow To fight with hunger, shame and cold, A woman gray and worn and oldTo clothe myself in rags again, And seek some wretched, narrow den And after that what must be done? Steal? Beg? Hard lines for any one. To work is easier. I would try, But there's no work for such as I. A fine thing, truly, to be free! But, warden, keep a place for me; For I'll come back. It's seven years Since first I entered here in tears. Drunk and disorderly " I came, But when I went away I said, |