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The Wanderer.

LOVE comes back to his vacant dwelling-
The old, old Love that we knew of yore!
We see him stand by the open door,

With his great eyes sad, and his bosom swelling.

He makes as though in our arms repelling
He fain would lie, as he lay before;
Love comes back to his vacant dwelling-
The old, old Love which we knew of yore!
Ah, who shall help us from over-spelling
That sweet forgotten, forbidden Love!
E'en as we doubt, in our heart once move,
With a rush of tears to our eyelids welling,
Love comes back to his vacant dwelling!

AUSTIN DOBSON.

If I Wesire with Pleasant Songs.

IF I desire with pleasant songs

To throw a merry hour away,
Comes Love unto me, and my wrongs

In careful tale he doth display,
And asks me how I stand for singing,
While I my helpless hands am wringing.

And then another time, if I

A noon in shady bower would pass, Comes he with stealthy gestures sly,

And flinging down upon the grass, Quoth he to me: My master dear, Think of this noontide such a year!

And if elsewhile I lay my head

On pillow, with intent to sleep, Lies Love beside me on the bed,

And gives me ancient words to keep;

Says he: These looks, these tokens number; May be, they'll help you to a slumber.

So every time when I would yield

An hour to quiet, comes he still; And hunts up every sign concealed, And every outward sign of ill; And gives me his sad face's pleasures For merriment's, or sleep's, or leisure's.

THOMAS BURBIDGE.

The Annoyer.

LOVE knoweth every form of air,
And every shape of earth,
And comes unbidden everywhere,

Like thought's mysterious birth. The moonlit sea and the sunset sky Are written with Love's words, And you hear his voice unceasingly, Like song in the time of birds.

He peeps into the warrior's heart

From the tip of a stooping plume,
And the serried spears, and the many men,
May not deny him room.

He'll come to his tent in the weary night,

And be busy in his dream,

And he'll float to his eye in the morning light, Like a fay on a silver beam.

He hears the sound of the hunter's gun,
And rides on the echo back,

And sighs in his ear like a stirring leaf,

And flits in his woodland track.

The shade of the wood, and the sheen of the river, The cloud and the open sky,

He will haunt them all with his subtle quiver, Like the light of your very eye.

The fisher hangs over the leaning boat,

And ponders the silver sea,

For Love is under the surface hid,

And a spell of thought has he.

He heaves the wave like a bosom sweet,
And speaks in the ripple low,
Till the bait is gone from the crafty line,
And the hook hangs bare below.

He blurs the print of the scholar's book,
And intrudes in the maiden's prayer,
And profanes the cell of the holy man
In the shape of a lady fair.

In the darkest night, and the bright daylight,
In earth, and sea, and sky,

In every home of human thought

Will Love be lurking nigh.

NATHANIEL PARKER WILLIS.

A Memorable Messert.

WE dined. A fish from the river beneath,
A cutlet, a bird from the windy heath

Where we had wandered, happy and mute;
It was a silent day with us-

In the early time it is often thus;

But my sweet love chatted when came the fruit.

Flavor of sunburnt nectarine,

YOUNG Rory O'More courted Kathleen bawn;
He was bold as the hawk, and she soft as the dawn;
He wished in his heart pretty Kathleen to please,
And he thought the best way to do that was to tease.
"Now, Rory, be aisy," sweet Kathleen would cry,
Reproof on her lip, but a smile in her eye-
"With your tricks, I don't know, in throth, what
I'm about;

Faith you've teased till I've put on my cloak inside out."

"Och! jewel," says Rory, "that same is the way You've thrated my heart for this many a day;

And 'tis plazed that I am, and why not, to be sure? For 'tis all for good luck," says bold Rory O'More.

Coming through the Rye.

GIN a body meet a body

Comin' through the rye,
Gin a body kiss a body,

Need a body cry?
Every lassie has her laddie -

Ne'er a ane hae I;

Yet a' the lads they smile at me When comin' through the rye. Amang the train there is a swain

I dearly lo'e myseľ';

But whaur his hame, or what his name, I dinna care to tell.