VIII

If only its chords were touched by his hand
How quick would the vibrating string
Give harmony sweet, for answering love
The lost music would surely bring.

IX

Oh, must I then cherish his image no more,
And banish him ever from sight,

And crush out the love that's sapping my life,
That's turning my day into night?

X

Can the sunflower forget the bright orb of day,

Her idol, her lover confessed?

And oh, can the rose forget the soft dew

That nightly doth fall on her breast?

ΧΙ

In the infinite future of love

His spirit will come to my side;

In the eternity endless I'll gain

That love which on earth he denied.

TO MY BROTHER

I

WHEN Autumn brings the russet leaf,
And Earth is all a-glowing
With colours rich of yellow sheaf
That in the fields are flowing
In waves of beauty, while the air
In gentle zephyrs playing

Makes rhythm in the meadows fair,
And lines of beauty laying.

II

Then Nature's poetry is sung,
For Earth herself is trying

To make her music with sweet tongue

In cadence softly sighing.

'Twas thus in sweetest time of

A little babe thou camest,

year

To fill thy niche, and unknown here

On earth a place thou claimest.

III

And when the harvest moon shines clear;

With stronger lustre beameth,

Then memory brings thee very near

And at my side thou seemeth

To list, and wonder as before,
When thou to me appealing,
I told thee tales in days of yore,

Of fancy, or of feeling.

IV

But soon I wake and find thee gone ;-
'Twas but a spell of dreaming ;—

I here, thou there, and all alone,
Above the great moon gleaming.

And yearly as the Autumn wanes

My heart would fain be showing

Its love towards thee, and full contains

A measure overflowing.

Q

THE BATTLE OF LIFE

A FAIR young girl with a serious look
Sat pondering deeply over her book;

And lifting her head in innocent grace
Intently gazed she in her mother's face.

'Oh, what is this "battle of life"?' she said, 'Where are the soldiers? By whom are they led?

'Our Queen hath her warriors brave, I know, But what is this army? Who is their foe?

'With pennant and plume, and brave array Are the soldiers dight on the battle-day?

With flashing sword and cannon, and lead, Mow they down the living, heap up the dead?'

(

Ah, daughter, the men in the battle of life,

Do not meet on the blood-stained field of strife;

'No sword is seen, nor pennant, nor plume,

Nor rolling thunder of the cannon's boom;

'Nor charge of rifles, are heard on the plain, Where combatants struggle for life or gain.

'Strange soldiers are some in this battle of life, The young and the frail; the widow, and wife ;

Unequal the contest, yet on they go,

Their leader Necessity, Want their foe.

'And countless heroes now gone to their rest

Ne'er wore the Victoria Cross on their breast.

'More noble than they who have scaled the height Of some dear ambition, kept well in sight.

'Yet the battles fought by these heroes great Are seldom acknowledged by King or State.