,
And, low as the voice of a Summer rill,
Her answer came. It was--"Yes, perhaps--
But who would settle our carriage bill?"

The dying roses breathed their last,
Our wheels rolled loud on the stones just then,
Where the snow had drifted; the subject dropped.
It has never been taken up again.

A SONG.

Spring-time is coming again, my dear;
Sunshine and violets blue, you know;
Crocuses lifting their sleepy heads
Out of their sheets of snow.
And I know a blossom sweeter by far
That violets blue, or crocuses are,
And bright as the sunbeam's glow.
But how can I dare to look in her eyes,
Colored with heaven's own hue?
That wouldn't do at all, my dear,
It really wouldn't do.

Her hair is a rippling, tossing sea;
In its golden depths the fairies play,
Beckoning, dancing, mocking there,
Luring my heart away.
And her merry lips are the ripest red
That ever addled a poor man's head,
Or led his wits astray.
What wouldn't I give to taste the sweets
Of those rose-leaves wet with dew!
But that wouldn't do at all, my dear,
It really wouldn't do.

Her voice is gentle, and clear and pure;
It rings like the chime of a silver bell,
And the thought it wakes in my foolish head,
I'm really afraid to tell.
Her little feet kiss the ground below,
And her hand is white as the whitest snow
That e'er from heaven fell.
But I wouldn't dare to take that hand,
Reward for my love to sue;
That wouldn't do at all, my dear,
It really wouldn't do.

OLD PHOTOGRAPHS.

Old lady, put your glasses on,
With polished lenses, mounting golden,
And once again look slowly through
The album olden.

How the old portraits take you back
To friends who once would 'round you gather--
All scattered now, like frosted leaves
In blustering weather.

Why, who is this, the bright coquette?
Her eyes with Love's bright arrows laden--
"Poor Nell, she's living single yet,
An ancient maiden."

And this, the fragile poetess?
Whose high soul-yearnings nought can smother--
"She's stouter far than I am now,
A kind grandmother."

Who is this girl with flowing curls,
Who on the golden future muses?
"What splendid hair she had!--and now
A 'fr