We were twin brothers, tall and hale, We stood within the twilight shade "We'll try a flight shot, high and good, Across the green glade toward the wood." And so we bent in sheer delight Our long keen shafts, drawn to the head, As we leaned back a breath of air We loosed. As one our bow-cords rang, Away they sprang; the wind of June We watched their flight, and saw them strike Deep in the ground slantwise alike, So far away that they might pass Then arm in arm we doubting went To find whose shaft was farthest sent, Each fearing in his loving heart But who could tell by such a plan Which of us was the stronger man? There at the margin of the wood, Their red cock-feathers wing and wing, Their points deep-planted where they fell An inch apart and parallel ! We clasped each other's hands; said he, "Twin champions of the world are we!" A CREOLE SLAVE-SONG (Ah, lo zo-zo chan' dan' branche) WHAT bird is that, with voice so sweet, Sings to the sun from yonder tree ? What girl is that so slim and fleet, Comes through the cane her love to meet ? Foli zo-zo, sing merrily. The pretty girl she comes to me! What wind is that upon the cane? What perfume from a far-off rose Fills me with dreams? What strange, vague pain Stirs in my heart? What longing vain Ah, no! Ah, no! It is a cheat. There is no bird; my love comes not; The wind chills me from head to feet, And oh, it brings no perfume sweet. My slender girl the white man bought, And took her far across the bayI cannot cut the cane to-day! I cannot cut the cane to-day— O zo-zo, moquer, come and sing! O warm wind, through the cane-field stray, I have no heart for anything; White man, how I worked for you When I was young and blithe and strong! The earth was green, the sky was blue, My love's eyes were as bright as dew; And life was like the zo-zo's song! But youyou sold my love awayI cannot cut the cane to-day! POE'S COTTAGE AT FORDHAM HERE lived the soul enchanted By melody of song; Here dwelt the spirit haunted Here grief and death were sated; Was he, so frail, so strong. Here wintry winds and cheerless His fancy as they grew. Here, with brow bared to heaven, In starry night he stood, With the lost star of seven Feeling sad brotherhood. Here in the sobbing showers Of dark autumnal hours He heard suspected powers Shriek through the stormy wood. From visions of Apollo And of Astarte's bliss, He gazed into the hollow And hopeless vale of Dis; And though earth were surrounded By heaven, it still was mounded With graves. His soul had sounded The dolorous abyss. Proud, mad, but not defiant, He touched at heaven and hell. Nay, methinks the maiden moon, When the daylight came too soon, Fleeting from her bath to hide, Left her garment in the tide. Yet each the heavens approve, ANONYMOUS ANONYMOUS -nor needs a name With light, and warmth, and incense, came A new creation to proclaim. So was it when, His labor done, God saw His work, and smiled thereon: CLOVER LITTLE masters, hat in hand Let me in your presence stand, Till your silence solve for me This your threefold mystery. Tell me for I long to know— Did your gossips gold and blue, Can ye, if ye dwelt indeed Little masters, may I stand THE DEPARTED THEY cannot wholly pass away, How far soe'er above; |