The bee-hives all is quiet; and the little Jersey steer,

When any one comes nigh it, acts so lonesome-like and queer;

And the little Banty chickens kindo' cutters faint and low,

Like the hand that now was feedin' 'em was one they did n't know.

They's sorrow in the wavin' leaves of all the apple-trees;

And sorrow in the harvest-sheaves, and sorrow in the breeze;

And sorrow in the twitter of the swallers 'round the shed;

And all the song her red-bird sings is "Little Haly's dead!"

LITTLE Orphant Annie's come to our house to stay,

An' wash the cups and saucers up, an' brush the crumbs away,

An' shoo the chickens off the porch, an' dust the hearth, an' sweep,

An' make the fire, an' bake the bread, an' earn her board-an'-keep; An' all us other children, when the supper things is done,

We set around the kitchen fire an' has the mostest fun

A-list'nin' to the witch-tales 'at Annie tells about,

An' the Gobble-uns 'at gits you
Ef you

Don't

One feller spit in his boot-leg, and another 'n' drapped a small

Little chunk o' ice down his collar, — but he did n't wake at all!

And they all nearly split when his Honor said, in one of his witty ways, To "chalk it down fer him, Called away -be back in thirty days !'"

That's where this man named Bolus slid, kindo' like in a fit,

Flat on the floor; and-drat my ears!
I hear 'em a-laughin' yit!
Somebody fetched Doc Sifers from jest
acrost the hall,

LONGFELLOW

THE winds have talked with him confid ingly;

The trees have whispered to him; and the night

Hath held him gently as a mother might, And taught him all sad tones of melody; The mountains have bowed to him; and the sea,

In clamorous waves, and murmurs exquisite, Hath told him all her sorrow and delight, Her legends fair, her darkest mystery. His verse blooms like a flower, night and day;

Bees cluster round his rhymes; and twit terings

Of lark and swallow, in an endless May, Are mingling with the tender songs he sings.

Nor shall he cease to sing-in every lay Of Nature's voice he sings - and will alway.

THE GARDEN WHERE THERE
IS NO WINTER

"Se Dio ti lasci, lettor, prender frutto
Di tua lezione."

BEHOLD the portal: open wide it stands,
And the long reaches shine and still allure

LOVE'S PRAYER

DEAR Lord! kind Lord!

Gracious Lord! I pray Thou wilt look on all I love, Tenderly to-day!

Weed their hearts of weariness;

Scatter every care,
Down a wake of angel wings

Winnowing the air.

Bring unto the sorrowing

All release from pain;
Let the lips of laughter
Overflow again;
And with all the needy
O divide, I pray,

This vast treasure of content
That is mine to-day!

Blockt

FLOWER, that I hold in my hand,
Waxen and white and unwoful,

Perfect with your race's lovely perfection,

Pure as the dream of a child just descended from the heavens,

Chaste as the thought of the maid on whose

sight first shines the glow of love's planet,

Trustful as a boy who holds the world in hands of power unrelaxing, Flower, graceful, lovely,

Lo! I give you to the waves that roll across the ocean's expauses.

I watch you like a star on the waters,
I watch you floating away in the distance;
The ocean gives you reception and dwell-
ing,

The ocean with the sweep of its worldencircling currents,

With its storms and winds, — Mutable home where all is each and each is other.

THREE steps and I reach the door,
But a whole month rolls between
Since last I stood before

My shut room's simple scene.

I pause at the door and shrink,
My hand is at point to turn,
But I stand and dimly think
Of all I long for and yearn.

My life leaps up to me there,

The past with its every deed, And I tremble and hardly dare The open mystery to read.

A year and a day and awhile,

Ay me! there is none escape; Each thought, each dream, each smile Will front me in questioning shape.

Ан, blessedness of work! the aimless mind,

Left to pursue at will its fancies wild, Returns at length, like some play-wearied

child,

Unto its labor's knee, and leaves behind Its little games, and learns to soothe its

blind

Wide longings in the sweet tranquillity

own;

And every flock that on thy hillsides grazes,

And every breeze from thy fair rivers blown,

And all the nestlings from thy branches flown,

Are eloquent in thy praises,
Demeter, mother of truth.

Thy seasons of grief, thy winters white with snowing,

More lovely make thy face, adorn thy head,

Add beauty to thy sweet eyes, ever glow. ing

With love and strength and godhead; and thy tread

Sweetens the earth; and all the gods are dead

But thee, thee only, strowing

Ever the land with youth.

And all the dead gods are in thee united, Woman and girl and lover and friend and queen;

And this tame, time-worn world is full requited

For that the Christ has cost us, and the teen

Bred of swift time.

-

And thy kissed

palms between Thy dear kissed hands

are righted The heart-knot and the ruth.

WHAT THOUGH THE GREEN LEAF GROW?

WHAT though the green leaf grow?
"T will last a month and day;
In all sweet flowers that blow
Lurks Death, his slave Decay.