deeds of fairy valor. Here, too, are dainty silver goblets from which they can quaff the crystal globes that drop one by one from the dark moss on the trees after rain. And there what wonders in fern tracery, silver filigree,

and coral for the fairy Guinevere !

-and off the grave

But hark! the children are comingmagician flies to watch their play from behind the neighboring tree trunk. There they come, straight to his workshop, and laugh in glee at the white chips he has scattered on the ground.

10

They are in league with the fairies, too, and cast magic spells over all they see. First they spy the upturned roots of a fallen tree. It is a mountain! And up they clamber to overlook their little world. And that pool left by the fall rains. Ha! It is a lake! And 15 away they go to cross it bravely on a bridge of quaking

moss.

As they pass under the shadow of a giant hemlock and pick up the cones for playthings, they catch sight of the pile of dark red sawdust at the foot of the tree and stand 20 open-mouthed while the oldest child tells of a long ant procession she saw there when each tiny worker came to the door to drop its borings from its jaws. How big their eyes get at the story! If the woodpecker could only give his cousin the yellow-hammer's tragic sequel to it!

25

But soon they have found a new delight. A stem of basswood seeds whirls through the air to their feet. They all scramble for it. What a pity they have no string! The last stem they found was a kite and a spin5 ning air top for a day's play. But this never mind — there it goes up in the air, dancing and whirling like a gay young fairy treading the mazes with the wind.

"Just see this piece of moss! How pretty!" And so they go through the woods, till the brown beech leaves. 10 shake with their laughter, and the gray squirrels look out of their oriel tree trunk windows to see who goes by, and the absorbed magician - who can tell how much fun he steals from his lofty observation post to make him content with his stub!

15 Why should he fly south when every day brings him some secret of the woods, or some scene like this? Let us proclaim him the sage of the birds!

unique (ú-nēk ́): unlike others. mat'ins: morning songs. -pay toll: in what way?-stub: stump. - monomaniac: a person interested in one idea. Chaucer to Wordsworth: Chaucer lived in the fourteenth century; Wordsworth in the nineteenth. to rail at: to scold. — reveille (re-vāl′yā): a bugle call to rise. In the United States service it is commonly pronounced rev'ȧ-lē'.- hemlock branches tip: the topmost twig of every hemlock tree tips to the east. - lichen compass: on which side of a tree trunk will lichens be found?. al'chemist: in olden times, one who tried to turn common metals into gold. — Guin ́evere: the wife of King Arthur. — tragic sequel: the yellow-hammer feeds mainly on ants. What, then, would be the sad end of the story?-treading the mazes: dancing. — o'riel window: a bay window; strictly speaking, one that does not rest on the ground.

THE BLUE AND THE GRAY

FRANCIS M. FINCH

FRANCIS M. FINCH was born at Ithaca, N.Y., in 1827. He is dean of the law school of Cornell University. This poem may be considered an American classic.

NOTE.

At Columbus, Miss., on Memorial Day, 1867, flowers were strewn alike upon the graves of Northern and Southern soldiers.

By the flow of the inland river,

Whence the fleets of iron have fled,
Where the blades of the grave-grass quiver,
Asleep are the ranks of the dead;
Under the sod and the dew,
Waiting the judgment day;
Under the one, the Blue;

Under the other, the Gray.

These, in the robings of glory,

Those, in the gloom of defeat,
All, with the battle blood gory,

In the dusk of eternity meet;
Under the sod and the dew,
Waiting the judgment day;
Under the laurel, the Blue;

Under the willow, the Gray.

15

20

5

10

15

20

From the silence of sorrowful hours

The desolate mourners go,
Lovingly laden with flowers

Alike for the friend and the foe;
Under the sod and the dew,

Waiting the judgment day;
Under the roses, the Blue;
Under the lilies, the Gray.

So with an equal splendor
The morning sun-rays fall,
With a touch impartially tender,
On the blossoms blooming for all;
Under the sod and the dew,

Waiting the judgment day;
'Broidered with gold, the Blue;
Mellowed with gold, the Gray.

So, when the summer calleth,
On forest and field of grain,
With an equal murmur falleth
The cooling drip of the rain;

Under the sod and the dew,
Waiting the judgment day;
Wet with the rain, the Blue;

Wet with the rain, the Gray.

Sadly, but not with upbraiding,
The generous deed was done;

In the storm of the years that are fading
No braver battle was won;

Under the sod and the dew,
Waiting the judgment day;
Under the blossoms, the Blue;
Under the garlands, the Gray.

No more shall the war-cry sever,

Or the winding rivers be red;
They banish our anger forever,

When they laurel the graves of our dead.
Under the sod and the dew,

Waiting the judgment day;

Love and tears for the Blue;

Tears and love for the Gray.

laurel to decorate with laurel. The laurel is the emblem of victory;

the willow, of grief.

10

15