nvious time is fleeting,
But your heart is beating in time with mine,
And Cupid's rhyme rings louder--clearer,
As I draw you nearer, my love divine!
In the twilight dim we have found love's tether,
And are linked together, no more to part;
While the white stars swing in a maze of glory,
To hear the story that bares your heart.

GUY WETMORE CARRYL.
_Columbia Spectator._

~Lines on a Ring.~

Oh, precious drop of crystal dew,
Set in a tiny band of gold,
Which doth within its little grasp
A blue-veined finger softly hold--
Thou failest if thy radiant rays
Are seeking--bold attempt 'twould be!--
To show a fraction of the love
That beams from Edith's eyes on me.

LOREN M. LUKE.
_Nassau Literary Monthly_.

~A Memory.~

Shadows up the hillside creeping,
Gold in western sky,
Meadow-brook beneath us keeping
Dreamy lullaby.

Soft stars through the pine-trees gleaming--
Gems in dark robes caught--
Everything about us seeming
With hidden meaning fraught.

Sweet dark eyes, upon me turning,
Challenge if I dare,
Vie with amorous sunbeams burning
O'er her face and hair.

But a truce to idle musing--
That was long ago.
Was she gracious or refusing?
You may never know.

Winter's snows those fields are hiding
'Neath a robe of white,
For another she is biding
Tryst of love to-night.

I was only glancing over
A book beloved of yore,
When a sprig of mountain clover
Fluttered to the floor.

IRVILLE C. LECOMPTE.
_Wesleyan Literary Monthly_.

[Illustration: A WESLEYAN GIRL.]

~The Soul's Kiss.~

Not your sweet, red lips, dear,
Tremulous with sighs,
Lest their passion dull love's rapture;
Kiss me with your eyes.

Gleam on Cupid's wing, dear,
At the least touch flies,
Even lips may brush to dimness;
Kiss me with your eyes.

Pain within the bliss, dear,
Of those soft curves lies;
Only love the soul's light carries;
Kiss me with your eyes.

MAUD THOMPSON.
_Wellesley Magazine._

~A Portrait.~

A slim, young girl, in lilac quaintly dressed;
A mammoth bonnet, lilac like the gown,
Hangs from her arm by wide, white strings, the crown
Wreathed round with lilac blooms; and on her breast
A cluster; lips still smiling at some jest
Just uttered, while the gay, gray eyes half frown
Upon the lips' conceit; hair, wind-blown, brown
Where shadows stray, gold where the sunbeams rest.

Ah! lilac lady, step from your gold frame,
Between that starched old Bishop and the dame