he smooth, bright way,
High, hey, high, hey,
Over the ice away.

Cheeks so bright,
Face alight,
Heart adance, adance;
Eyes of night,
Brow of white,
Silver skates agleam, aglance.
High, hey, high, hey,
Skimming the smooth, bright way,
High, hey, high, hey,
Over the ice away.

CORA ISABEL WARBURTON.
_Smith College Monthly_.

~A Mystery.~

Once, a little while ago, 'twas so warm and still
Down here, in this soft, dark place. Now I feel a thrill
Darting through me. Shivering, quivering, bursts my wrappage brown,
Struggling, striving, something in me reaches up and down.
Ah! it must be death, this anguish that I cannot understand.

One inch more,--I lift my head above the parted mould,
Oh! what rapture! Falling on me something sweet and gold,
Something humming, singing, moving, growing on each side;
High above me a blue glory stretching far and wide,--
And I know 'twas life, that anguish that I could not understand.

MARY E. HOYT.
_Bryn Mawr Lantern._

~The Birch-Tree.~

Like a shower, breeze-suspended,
Caught and played with by the air,
April from the sky descended,
Tricked by sunshine unaware,
To a pale green fountain fashioned,
Silver shaft with airy fling,
Tremulous and sun-impassioned
Is the birch-tree in the spring.

Like the spirit of the fountain--
Seen when earth was yet a child--
Leaping, white-armed, from the mountain,
Laughing, beckoning, water-wild,
Sheen of mist her beauty veiling,
Which she only half can hide,
Garments o'er her white feet trailing,
Seems the birch at summer-tide.

E.A.H.
_Inlander_.

~My Quest.~

Over the meadow and over the hill,
Over the heath and heather,
I seek for the spot where the dawn-wind sleeps,
And slips from its night-bound tether.
Is it here? Is it there?
Pray tell me where
The morning zephyrs tarry,
That I may bide
Where they crouch and hide,
And sip of the dew they carry.

Over the billow and over the wave,
Over the vales and valleys,
I seek for the spot where the night-wind dreams,
And rests from its twilight rallies.
Is it here? Is it there?
Pray tell me where
The breath of night lies sleeping,
That I may rest
In its downy nest,
With its breath my eyelids steeping.

W.T.O.
_Trinity Tablet._

~Lullaby.~

Breezes in the tree-tops high,
Sighing softly as you blow,
Sing a restful lullaby;
Sing the sweetest song you