To draw me back to the pleasures
Of the lands of long ago.

There are visions of beauty and splendour,
And a fame that I never can win--
Far out on the deep they are sailing--
My ships that will never come in.

A Vignette

It was a muddy down-town corner and several people stood in the cold,
waiting for a street-car. A stand of daily papers was on the sidewalk,
guarded by two little newsboys. One was much younger than the other,
and he rolled two marbles back and forth in the mud by the curb.
Suddenly his attention was attracted by something bright above him,
and he looked up into a bunch of red carnations a young lady held in
her hands. He watched them eagerly, seemingly unable to take his eyes
from the feast of colour. She saw the hungry look in the little face,
and put one into his hand. He was silent, until his brother said: "Say
thanky to the lady." He whispered his thanks, and then she bent down
and pinned the blossom upon his ragged jacket, while the big policeman
on the corner smiled approvingly.

"My, but you're gay now, and you can sell all your papers," the bigger
boy said tenderly.

"Yep, I can sell 'em now, sure!"

Out of the crowd on the opposite corner came a tiny, dark-skinned
Italian girl, with an accordion slung over her shoulder by a dirty
ribbon; she made straight for the carnations and fearlessly cried,
"Lady, please give me a flower!" She got one, and quickly vanished in
the crowd.

The young woman walked up the street to a flower-stand to replenish
her bunch of carnations, and when she returned, another dark-skinned
mite rushed up to her without a word, only holding up grimy hands with
a gesture of pathetic appeal. Another brilliant blossom went to her,
and the young woman turned to follow her; on through the crowd the
child fled, until she reached the corner where her mother stood,
seamed and wrinkled and old, with the dark pathetic eyes of sunny
Italy. She held the flower out to her, and the weary mother turned and
snatched it eagerly, then pressed it to her lips, and kissed it as
passionately as if it had been the child who brought it to her.

Just then the car came, and the big grey policeman helped the owner of
the carnations across the street, and said as he put her on the car,
"Lady, you've sure done them children a good turn to-day."

Meditation

I sail through the realms of the long ago,
Wafted by fancy and v