"

"Of yourself, then."

"In twenty years' time--" She broke off with the faintest possible
sigh.

The Poet jumped up and went to his writing-desk. "That reminds me,"
he said, and produced a folded scrap of paper. "I wrote it last
night. It's a sort of a little New Year's present--you need not read
it, you know."

"But I will": and she took the paper and read--

UPON NEW YEAR'S EVE

Now winds of winter glue
Their tears upon the thorn,
And earth has voices few,
And those forlorn.

And 'tis our solemn night
When maidens sand the porch,
And play at Jack's Alight
With burning torch,

Or cards, or Kiss i' the Ring--
While ashen faggots blaze,
And late wassailers sing
In miry ways.

Then, dear my wife, be blithe
To bid the New Year hail
And welcome--plough, drill, scythe,
And jolly flail.

For though the snows he'll shake
Of winter from his head,
To settle, flake by flake,
On ours instead;

Yet we be wreathed green
Beyond his blight or chill,
Who kissed at seventeen
And worship still.

We know not what he'll bring:
But this we know to-night--
He doth prepare the Spring
For our delight.

With birds he'll comfort us,
With blossoms, balms, and bees,
With brooks, and odorous
Wild breath o' the breeze.

Come then, O festal prime!
With sweets thy bosom fill,
And dance it, dripping thyme,
On Lantick hill.

West wind, awake! and comb
Our garden, blade from blade--
We, in our little home,
Sit unafraid.

--"Why, I quite like it!" said she.

THE ROLL-CALL OF THE REEF.

"Yes, sir," said my host the quarryman, reaching down the relics from
their hook in the wall over the chimney-piece; "they've hung there
all my time, and most of my father's. The women won't touch 'em;
they're afraid of the story. So here they'll dangle, and gather dust
and smoke, till another tenant comes and tosses 'em out o' doors for
rubbish. Whew! 'tis coarse weather."

He went to the door, opened it, and stood studying the gale that
beat upon his cottage-front, straight from the Manacle Reef.
The rain drove past him into the kitchen, aslant like threads of gold
silk in the shine of the wreckwood fire. Meanwhile by the same
firelight I examined the