give it thy chancellor of state,
And let him wear its golden weight
With his official burdens.

"I sing, I sing as the wild birds sing
That in the forest dwell;
The songs that from my bosom spring
Alone reward me well:
But may I ask that page of thine
To bring me one good cup of wine
In golden goblet sparkling?"

He took the cup; he drank it all:
"O soothing nectar thine!
Thrice bless'd the highly favored hall
Where flows such glorious wine:
If thou farest well, then think of me,
And thank thy God, as I thank thee
For this inspiring goblet."

HOPE

[From the German of Schiller.]

Men talk and dream of better days--
Of a golden time to come;
Toward a happy and shining goal
They run with a ceaseless hum.
The world grows old and grows young again,
Still hope of the better is bright to men.

Hope leads us in at the gate of life;
She crowns the boyish head;
Her bright lamp lures the stalwart youth,
Nor burns out with the gray-haired dead;
For the grave closes over his trouble and care,
But see--on the grave--Hope is planted there!

'Tis not an empty and flattering deceit,
Begot in a foolish brain;
For the heart speaks loud with its ceaseless throbs,
"We are not born in vain";
And the words that out of the heart-throbs roll,
They cannot deceive the hoping soul.

MRS. MCNAIR

_Misce stultitiam consiliis brevem.--Horace._

Mrs. McNair
Was tall and fair;
Mrs. McNair was slim;
She had flashing black eyes and raven hair;
But a very remarkably modest air;
And her only care was for Mr. McNair;
She was exceedingly fond of him.

He sold "notions" and lace
With wonderful grace,
And kept everything neatly displayed in its place:
The red, curly hair on his head and his face
He always persisted
Should be oiled and twisted;
He was the sleekest young husband that ever existed.

Precisely at four
He would leave his store;
And Mr. McNair with his modest bride
Seated snugly and lovingly by his side,
On the rural Broadway,
Every pleasant day,
In his spick-span carriage would rattle away.

Though it must be allowed
The lady was proud,
She'd have no maid about her the dear lady vowed:
So for Mr. McNair
The wear and the fare
She made it a care of her own to prepare.
I think I may guess, being married myself,
That the cause was not solely the saving of pelf.

As for her, I'll declare,
Though raven her hair,
Tho