een meadows. Make way, make way
for the great, wild horses!"

And the trees went leaping from horizon to horizon shrieking and
shrieking the news.

MISTRESS QUIET-EYES

While I sit beside the window
I can hear the pigeons coo,
That the air is warm and blue,
And how well the young bird flew--
Then I fold my arms and scold the heart
That thought the pigeons knew.

While I sit beside the window
I can watch the flowers grow
Till the seeds are ripe and blow
To the fruitful earth below--
Then I shut my eyes and tell my heart
The flowers cannot know.

While I sit beside the window
I am growing old and drear;
Does it matter what I hear,
What I see, or what I fear?
I can fold my hands and hush my heart
That is straining to a tear.

The earth is gay with leaf and flower,
The fruit is ripe upon the tree,
The pigeons coo in the swinging bower,
But I sit wearily
Watching a beggar-woman nurse
A baby on her knee.

THREE LOVERS WHO LOST

I

Young Mr. O'Grady was in love. It was the first time he had been in
love, and it was all sufficiently startling. He seemed to have leaped
from boyhood to manhood at a stroke, and the things which had pretended
to be of moment yesterday were to-day discovered to have only the very
meanest importance. Different affairs now occupied him. A little
while ago his cogitations had included, where he would walk to on the
next Sunday, whether his aunt in Meath Street would lend him the price
of a ticket for the coming Bank Holiday excursion, whether his brother
would be using his bicycle on Saturday afternoon, and whether the
packet of cigarettes which he was momently smoking contained as many
cigarettes as could be got elsewhere for two pence.

These things were no longer noteworthy. Clothing had assumed an
importance he could scarcely have believed in. Boots, neck-ties, the
conduct of one's hat and of one's head, the progress of one's
moustache, one's bearing towards people in the street and in the house,
this and that social observance--all these things took on a new and
important dignity. He bought a walking-stick, a card-case, a purse, a
pipe with a glass bottom wherein one could observe one's own nicotine
inexorably accumulating.--He bought a book on etiquette and a pot of
paste for making moustaches grow in spite of providence, and one day he
insisted on himself drinking a half glass of whisky--it tasted sadly,
but h