the aching.

They have been lovers in days gone by;
But the soul is fickle, and longs to fly
From the fettering mesalliance:
And she tears at the bonds which are binding her so,
And pleads with the body to let her go,
But he will not yield compliance.

For the body loves, as he loved in the past,
When he wedded the soul; and he holds her fast,
And swears that he will not loose her;
That he will keep her and hide her away
For ever and ever and for a day
From the arms of Death, the seducer.

Ah! this is the strife that is wearying me--
The strife 'twixt a soul that would be free
And a body that will not let her.
And I say to my soul, "Be calm, and wait;
For I tell ye truly that soon or late
Ye surely shall drop each fetter."

And I say to the body, "Be kind, I pray;
For the soul is not of thy mortal clay,
But is formed in spirit fashion."
And still through the hours of the solemn night
I can hear my sad soul's plea for flight,
And my body's reply of passion.

[Illustration:]

[Illustration: DAY DREAMS]

RESPONSE.

I said this morning, as I leaned and threw
My shutters open to the Spring's surprise,
"Tell me, O Earth, how is it that in you
Year after year the same fresh feelings rise?
How do you keep your young exultant glee?
No more those sweet emotions come to me.

"I note through all your fissures how the tide
Of healthful life goes leaping as of old;
Your royal dawns retain their pomp and pride;
Your sunsets lose no atom of their gold.
How can this wonder be?" My soul's fine ear
Leaned, listening, till a small voice answered near:

"My days lapse never over into night;
My nights encroach not on the rights of dawn.
I rush not breathless after some delight;
I waste no grief for any pleasure gone.
My July noons burn not the entire year.
Heart, hearken well!" "Yes, yes; go on; I hear."

"I do not strive to make my sunsets' gold
Pave all the dim and distant realms of space.
I do not bid my crimson dawns unfold
To lend the midnight a fictitious grace.
I break no law, for all God's laws are good.
Heart, hast thou heard?" "Yes, yes; and understood."

DROUTH.

Why do we pity those who weep? The p