gh at our fate as we die.

On your guard! There'll be blood on the metal
Ere she wakes from her innocent dreams;
There's a long list of kisses to settle,
And some love sighs and death sighs, it seems.
Bare your arm! Strike for life and the maiden!
Take that! You are cautious, I fear
Speed the blow,--'tis with happiness laden
For him who does not remain here

That and that! I am wounded,--it's over
Those kisses were destined for you;
But now she is yours and you love her,
Go tell her that I loved her too

Blood on the Rose.

Is it dew on the rose?
'T is the same that I gave him
Last night when I chose
To warn him and save him;

That he pinned on his breast
With a smile at his danger,
And a smile, not in jest,
That was sweeter and stranger

Here are footprints of foes!
Oh, my heart!--I can feel
It is blood on the rose
And a sliver of steel.

In Old Madrid.

I strolled the streets in quest of any love,
In old Madrid long centuries ago;
I caught the perfume of a scented glove,
I saw a sweet face in a portico.

She laughed--then paled. She leaned out; whispered, "Fly!"
And then I felt the sting of steel, the hiss
Of curses in my ear, and knew that I
Had forfeited my life--and lost a kiss.

The Duel.

Ten paces--one, two, three, and fire!
Two gallants have their heart's desire.

One of them dies, the other laughs;
The seconds smile, the doctor chaffs.

A woman, smiling, dreams she's wed
To--hush, to the very one that's dead.

The Shroud.

The snow came softly, silently, down
Into the streets of the dark old town;
And lo! by the wind it was swept and piled
On the sleeping form of a beggar-child.

It kissed her cheek, and it filled her hair
With crystals that looked like diamonds there;
And she dreamed that she was a fair young bride
In a pure white dress by her husband's side.

A blush crept over her pale young face,
And her thin lips smiled with a girlish grace;
But the old storm-king made his boast aloud
That his work that night was weaving a shroud.

Love's Return.

Love has come back--ah me, the joy!--
Greater than when Love began
To wound my heart. The jocund boy!
Love has come back a gray-haired man.