ams;
'Tis the country ideal, where nothing is real,
But everything only seems.

Just drop down the curtains of your dear eyes
Those eyes like a bright bluebell,
And we will sail out under starlit skies,
To the land where the fairies dwell.

Down the river of sleep our barque shall sweep,
Till it reaches that mystical Isle
Which no man hath seen, but where all have been,
And there we will pause awhile.
I will croon you a song as we float along
To that shore that is blessed of God,
Then, ho! for that fair land, we're off for that rare land,
That beautiful Land of Nod.

[Illustration:]

THE TIGER.

In the still jungle of the senses lay
A tiger soundly sleeping, till one day
A bold young hunter chanced to come that way.

"How calm," he said, "that splendid creature lies!
I long to rouse him into swift surprise."
The well aimed arrow shot from amorous eyes,

And lo! the tiger rouses up and turns,
A coal of fire his glowing eyeball burns,
His mighty frame with savage hunger yearns.

He crouches for a spring; his eyes dilate--
Alas! bold hunter, what shall be thy fate?
Thou canst not fly; it is too late, too late.

Once having tasted human flesh, ah! then,
Woe, woe unto the whole rash world of men.
The wakened tiger will not sleep again.

ONLY A SIMPLE RHYME.

Only a simple rhyme of love and sorrow,
Where "blisses" rhymed with "kisses," "heart," with "dart:"
Yet, reading it, new strength I seemed to borrow,
To live on bravely and to do my part.

A little rhyme about a heart that's bleeding--
Of lonely hours and sorrow's unrelief:
I smiled at first; but there came with the reading
A sense of sweet companionship in grief.

The selfishness of my own woe forsaking,
I thought about the singer of that song.
Some other breast felt this same weary aching;
Another found the summer days too long.

The few sad lines, my sorrow so expressing,
I read, and on the singer, all unknown,
I breathed a fervent though a silent blessing,
And seemed to clasp his hand within my own.

And though fame pass him and he never know it,
And though he never sings another strain,
He has performed the mission of the poet,
In helpi