sea.

Of Lotus-land where pleasure dreamful lies,
Of kindred souls responsive each to each,
Of thoughts half hidden by deep-tinted eyes--
(Sweet traitors telling that denied to speech!)
The merest fragment of a life replete,
A sun-gleam 'mid existence's sombre grays,
Eyes, hands and hearts that for one moment meet
In strange, sweet yearning ... then--divided ways.

To Margaret

Maiden of varying mood,
Thalia thou hast wooed,
Thespis thereafter,
Till 'neath thy lyric sway
Each heart must tribute pay--
Tears blent with laughter.
So in the days to be
This do we crave for thee,
Through life's hereafter,
Throughout the changing years,
May all thy griefs and tears
Be blent with laughter.

Regret

Shimmer of rose and pearl,
Sheen on an opal sky;
Day's crimson banners unfurl,
Purple-pleached shadow-gleams die;
Dawn flowers bourgeoning fair,
Meads with the dawn-dews wet;
Rare is the morn--ah, rare!
But in the heart, regret--
A vague regret.

Clouds like the scattered snow
Stippling a sapphire sky;
Fervor and heat and glow,
Zephyrs that swoon and die.
Drowseth the nooning air
On meads with red poppies set;
Fair is the day--ah, fair!
But in the heart, regret--
And still ... regret.

Flashes of burning gold,
Flushes of crimson light
Faint on a waning wold,
Stealeth the silent night.
One from a casement bar
Leaneth with lashes wet,
Watching the last wan star
Fade like a heart's regret--
A vain regret.

"God Bless You, Dear"

Dear patient face and placid brow,
Dear lips that smiled despite of pain,
Brave toil-worn hands, so helpful now,
Sweet spirit free from earthly stain.
Within the doorway Mother stands,
The while a merry barefoot lad,
Across the springtime meadow-lands
Goes whistling schoolward, blithe and glad;
And where the pathway breasts the hill,
I stay my steps and turn to hear
Her loving voice, as lingering still,
She calls, "Good-bye! God bless you, dear."

Dear patient face and furrowed brow,
Dear lips that smile thro' all life's pain,
Brave toil-worn hands, so weary now,
Sweet soul unmarred by earthly stain.
Within the doorway Mother stands,
The while a man oppressed with care,
Across the waning Autumn lands,
Goes toil-ward, fain to strive and bear;
And where the pathway breasts the hill,
I stay my steps and turn to hear
Her trembling voice, as ling'ring still,
She ca