us rest a little--find surcease
For feet grown weary of the thridded street
That echoes ever to the ceaseless beat
Of human tread;--a brief while know the ease
Of dreamful rest, to slumb'rous languors stilled
On Orient rugs of dappled mosses spread
In nooks where blossom, purple, white and red,
The flowers Summer's lavish hands have spilled.

Wild woodland creatures near us unafraid,
Some strange enchantment doth the forest hold--
Was that a sungleam, or a wand of gold
By tricksy Puck or wanton Ariel swayed?
Old oaks and beeches open wide their doors
And hamadryads veiled in golden sheen
Floating diaphanous o'er robes of green
Walk with still feet the forest's russet floors.

Lo, here are fairies hid in flower-bells,
There wood-nymphs fleeing from pursuing fauns,
And naiads fleshed with hues of rosy dawns
Lie dreaming by white streams in dusky dells;
We tread dim paths untrod by foot of man
And hark the horn of Dian ringing clear;
While faint, elusive, thin--now far, now near,
Meseems I hear the oaten pipe of Pan.

And while o'erhead the plaining wood-dove grieves,
The cardinal--a winged, scarlet flower--
Sprays all the air with song, a golden shower
Of flutes-notes sifting downward thro' the leaves.
Ah, sweet enchantment doth the forest hold,
For Nature's self doth haunt these woodland ways,
My fevered brow on her cool breast she lays
And care slips from me as a garment old.

Ashes of Roses

Skies glooming overhead,
Autumn winds sighing;
Bare yonder garden bed,
Flowers low lying.
All their rich radiance fled,
All their pale petals shed,
Wan wraiths of Summer sped,
In Autumn's closes;
Crimson and cream and gold
Strewn on earth's bosom cold,
Mingling with umber mold--
Ashes of roses.

See, in yon waning West
Rich roses blowing
On Heaven's palimpsest
God's message glowing;
Rose hues and amethyst
Drenched in purpureate mist,
Darkness with Day keeps tryst,
Night's curtain closes;
Quenched is the burning gold,
Shadowed the upland wold,
Day's fires grow dull and cold
Ashes of roses.

So on this heart of mine
Shadows are lying;
Lotus and rue entwine,
Dim dreams are dying;
Stilled is the thrill divine,
Spilled is the amber wine,
Dimly the cold stars shine;
Wan age discloses
All youth's bright blossoms dead,
All love's rare radiance sped,
All hope's pure petals shed--
Ashes of roses.

A Challenge

To have lived, to have loved, to have t