every stitch a curse;
"Your skirt a silken shroud."

For while the gas-lights flickered in play
The life of the sempstress ebbed away
In the West End work-room yonder.

A UNIVERSITY FOR WALES.

WRITTEN IN 1867, AND INSCRIBED TO THOSE WHO WERE THEN
ENGAGED IN THE NOBLE AND PATRIOTIC WORK OF PROVIDING ONE.

In the cause of Education
Let us raise the standard high,
And in tones of exultation
"Upward--onward!" be the cry.
Let us rear this Fane of Learning--
Beauteous Temple of the Mind;
Where true hearts, for knowledge yearning,
May the priceless jewel find.

In the cause of Education
Let the glorious altar stand,
As a bulwark of the nation,
As a blessing in the land.
Let an unsectarian fabric
Grow in grandeur from the sod,
As a crown upon our manhood,
As a monument to God.

In the cause of Education
Let the wealth which Wisdom owns
Be out-scattered open-handed
To uprear this Throne of Thrones:
And, like bread upon the waters,
Hearts that give from store of gold
Will, in never-dying blessings,
Richly reap a thousand-fold.

In the cause of Education,
In the search for simple Truth,
In the proud Confederation
Which ennobles striving youth,
Let each heart's best pulses quicken,
Patriotic souls up-leap,
Till, mind-freighted, sails the fabric
Like an ark upon the deep.

GRIEFS UNTOLD.

In silence blooms the Summer rose,
With damask cheek and odorous breath,
And ne'er a ruddy leaf that blows
Whispers of canker or of death:
But sweetly smiles the lovely flower
All through the sunshine warm and gay,
And tells not of the canker-dower
That eats its inmost heart away.

In gladness rolls the river bright
Down through the meadow grassy-green,
With ripples full of laughing light
That wake with joy the sunny scene.
From morn till morn, with cheery tread,
The stream walks on with ne'er a sigh,
Nor tells of pebbles hard and dead
That deep below the surface lie.

"I WILL."

It is Christmas Eve, and the dance is o'er:
"Good night--good night all round!"
And the red light streams through the open door,
Like a sprite on the snowy ground.
And faces peer down the glowing dell
From the cottage warm and bright,
To see the last of the village belle
Who stands in the pale moonlight.
And waving her hand with