Enough. You came to womanhood.

Your heart

Pure as the leaf of the consummate bud,

That's new unfolded by the smiling sun,

And ne'er knew blight nor canker! When a good woman

Is fitly mated, she grows doubly good,

How good soe'er before! I found the man

I thought a match for thee; and, soon as found,
Proposed him to thee. 'Twas your father's will,
Occasion offering, you should be married
Soon as you reach'd to womanhood. You liked
My choice-accepted him. We came to town;
Where, by important matters, summon'd thence,
I left you, an affianced bride!

Julia.

You did!

You did!

Walter. Nay, check thy tears! Let judgment now,
Not passion, be awake. On my return,

I found thee-what? I'll not describe the thing
I found thee then! I'll not describe my pangs
To see thee such a thing! The engineer
Who lays the last stone of his sea-built tower
It cost him years and years of toil to raise,
And, smiling at it, tells the winds and waves
To roar and whistle now-but, in a night,
Beholds the tempest sporting in its place-
May look aghast, as I did!

GERALD MASSEY.

OUR WEE WHITE ROSE.

ALL in our marriage garden

Grew, smiling up to God,

A bonnier flower than ever

Suckt the green warmth of the sod;

O beautiful unfathomably

Its little life unfurled;

And crown of all things was our wee
White Rose of all the world.

From out a balmy bosom,

Our bud of beauty grew:
It fed on smiles for sunshine;
On tears for daintier dew:
Aye nestling warm and tenderly,
Our leaves of love were curled,
So close and close, about our wee
White Rose of all the world.

With mystical faint fragrance
Our house of life she filled-
Revealed each hour some fairy tower

Where winged hopes might build!
We saw-though none like us might see-
Such precious promise pearled

Upon the petals of our wee

White Rose of all the world.

But, evermore the halo

Of Angel-light increased,
Like the mystery of moonlight
That folds some fairy feast.
Snow-white, snow-soft, snow-silently

Our darling bud up-curled,

And dropt i' the grave-God's lap-our wee

White Rose of all the world.

Our Rose was but in blossom;
Our life was but in spring;
When down the solemn midnight
We heard the Spirits sing-
"Another bud of infancy

With holy dews impearled!"

And in their hands they bore our wee White Rose of all the world.

You scarce could think so small a thing
Could leave a loss so large;
Her little light such shadow fling
From dawn to sunset's marge.
In other springs our life may be
In bannered bloom unfurled,
But never, never match our wee
White Rose of all the world.

THAT MERRY, MERRY MAY.

AH! 'tis like a tale of olden

Time, long, long ago;

When the world was in its golden

Prime, and Love was lord below!
Every vein of Earth was dancing
With the Spring's new wine!
"Twas the pleasant time of flowers,

When I met you, love of mine!
Ah! some spirit sure was straying
Out of heaven that day,
When I met you, Sweet! a-Maying
In that merry, merry May!