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Killed at the Ford.

39

And I saw in a vision how far and fleet

That fatal bullet went speeding forth
Till it reached a town in the distant North,
Till it reached a house in a sunny street,
Till it reached a heart that ceased to beat
Without a murmur, without a cry;
And a bell was tolled in that far-off town,
For one who had passed from cross to crown,
And the neighbours wondered that she should

die.

GIOTTO'S TOWER.

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OW many lives, made beautiful and sweet
By self-devotion and by self-restraint,
Whose pleasure is to run without com-

plaint
On unknown errands of the Paraclete,
Wanting the reverence of unshodden feet,
Fail of the nimbus which the artists

paint Around the shining forehead of the

saint, And are in their completeness incom

plete!

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In the old Tuscan town stands Giotto's tower,

The lily of Florence blossoming in stone,

A vision, a delight, and a desire,-
The builder's perfect and centennial flower,

That in the night of ages bloomed alone,
But wanting still the glory of the spire.

TO-MORROW.

TIS

JIS late at night, and in the realm of sleep

My little lambs are folded like the flocks;
From room to room I hear th wakeful

clocks

Challenge the passing hour, like guards

that keep
Their solitary watch on tower and steep;

Far off I hear the crowing of the cocks,
And through the opening door that time

unlocks
Feel the fresh breathing of To-morrow

creep.

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To-morrow! the mysterious, unknown guest,

Who cries to me: “Remember Barmecide,

And tremble to be happy with the rest.” And I make answer: “I am satisfied;

I dare not ask; I know not what is

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