Away! is it man? is it woman,
On such dread meat to feed?
Away! is it beast? is it human?
Or is it a fiend indeed?

Fiend from human loins begotten,
Hell-inspired, God-forgotten!
Now the midnight hour draws on:
Human form no fiend may keep
Or ever that mystic hour is told.
Lower, lower, lower it bends.
Midnight is come —
- is come and gone
!
Down on all fours see it plunge and leap!
A human yell in a wolf's howl ends! . .
What gaunt, gray thing gallops on o'er
the world?

JULIAN HAWTHORNE

Mighty little credit, that,
To my self-denial;

Not to love her, though, might be
Something of a trial.

Why, the rosy light, that peeps Through the glass above her, Lingers round her lips, you see

E'en the sunbeams love her.

So to make my merit more,
I'll go beyond the letter:-
Love my neighbor as myself?
Yes, and ten times better.
For she's sweeter than the breath
Of the Spring, that passes
Through the fragrant, budding woods,
O'er the meadow-grasses.

And I've preached the word I know,
For it was my duty

To convert the stubborn heart
Of the little beauty.

Once again success has crowned
Missionary labor,

For her sweet eyes own that she
Also loves her neighbor.

GEORGE AUGUSTUS BAKER

AN AMERICAN GIRL

SHE's had a Vassar education,

And points with pride to her degrees;
She's studied household decoration;

She knows a dado from a frieze,
And tells Corots from Boldonis;

A Jacquemart etching, or a Haden,

A Whistler, too, perchance might please A free and frank young Yankee maiden.

She does not care for meditation;

Within her bonnet are no bees; She has a gentle animation,

She joins in singing simple glees. She tries no trills, no rivalries With Lucca (now Baronin Räden),

With Nilsson or with Gerster; she 's A frank and free young Yankee maiden.

I'm blessed above the whole creation,
Far, far above all other he's;

I ask you for congratulation
On this the best of jubilees: