l be fickle. Yet, when all
Is said and done,
I was not one whom you could call
A flirt--not one

Of those who into three or four
Their hearts divide.
My queens came singly to the door,
Not side by side.

Each, while she reigned, possessed alone
My spirit loyal,
Then left an undisputed throne
To one more royal,

To one more fair in form and face
Sweeter and stronger,
Who filled the throne with truer grace,
And filled it longer.

So, love by love, they came and passed,
These loves of mine,
And each one brighter than the last
Their lights did shine.

Until--but am I not too free,
Most courteous stranger,
With secrets which belong to me?
There is a danger.

Until, I say, the perfect love,
The last, the best,
Like flame descending from above,
Kindled my breast,

Kindled my breast like ardent flame,
With quenchless glow.
I knew not love until it came,
But now I know.

You smile. The twenty loves before
Were each in turn,
You say, the final flame that o'er
My soul should burn.

Smile on, my friend. I will not say
You have no reason;
But if the love I feel to-day
Depart, 'tis treason!

If this depart, not once again
Will I on paper
Declare the loves that waste and wane,
Like some poor taper.

No, no! This flame, I cannot doubt,
Despite your laughter,
Will burn till Death shall put it out,
And may be after.

TRAFALGAR SQUARE

These verses have I pilfered like a bee
Out of a letter from my C. C. C.
In London, showing what befell him there,
With other things, of interest to me.

One page described a night in open air
He spent last summer in Trafalgar Square,
With men and women who by want are driven
Thither for lodging, when the nights are fair.

No roof there is between their heads and heaven,
No warmth but what by ragged clothes is given,
No comfort but the company of those
Who with despair, like them, have vainly striven.

On benches there uneasily they doze,
Snatching brief morsels of a poor repose,
And if through weariness they might sleep sound,
Their eyes must open almost ere they close.

With even tramp upon the paven ground,
Twice every hour the night patrol comes round
To clear these wretches off, who may not keep
The miserable couches they have found.

Yet the stern shepherds of the poor black sheep
Will soften when they see a woman weep.
There was a mother there who s