Ah! each sailor in the port
Knows that I have ships at sea,
Of the waves and winds the sport,
And the sailors pity me.
Oft they come and with me walk,
Cheering me with hopeful talk,
Till I put my fears aside,
And, contented, watch the tide
Rise and fall, rise and fall.

I have waited on the piers,
Gazing for them down the bay,
Days and nights for many years,
Till I turned heart-sick away.
But the pilots, when they land,
Stop and take me by the hand,
Saying, "You will live to see
Your proud vessels come from sea,
One and all, one and all."

So I never quite despair,

Nor let hope or courage fail;

And some day, when skies are fair,
Up the bay my ships will sail.

I shall buy then all I need, -
Prints to look at, books to read,
Horses, wines, and works of art,

Everything - except a heart

That is lost, that is lost.

Once, when I was pure and young,
Richer, too, than I am now,
Ere a cloud was o'er me flung,

Or a wrinkle creased my brow,
There was one whose heart was mine;
But she's something now divine
And though come my ships from sea,
They can bring no heart to me
Evermore, evermore.

ROBERT STEVENSON COFFIN.

LOVE'S YOUNG DREAM.

FROM IRISH MELODIES."

O THE days are gone when beauty bright
My heart's chain wove!

When my dream of life, from morn till night,

Was love, still love!

New hope may bloom,

And days may come,

Of milder, calmer beam,

But there's nothing half so sweet in life

As love's young dream!

O, there's nothing half so sweet in life
As love's young dream!

Though the bard to purer fame may soar,
When wild youth's past;

Though he win the wise, who frowned before,
To smile at last;

When hearts have once mingled,

Love first leaves the well-built nest;

The weak one is singled

To endure what it once possessed.

O Love! who bewailest

The frailty of all things here,

Why choose you the frailest

For your cradle, your home, and your bier?

Its passions will rock thee

As the storms rock the ravens on high;
Bright reason will mock thee
Like the sun from a wintry sky.

From thy nest every rafter
Will rot, and thine eagle home
Leave thee naked to laughter,
When leaves fall and cold winds come.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

TAKE, O, TAKE THOSE LIPS AWAY.*

TAKE, O, take those lips away,

That so sweetly were forsworn ; And those eyes, like break of day, Lights that do mislead the morn ; But my kisses bring again, Seals of love, but sealed in vain.

Hide, O, hide those hills of snow

Which thy frozen bosom bears, On whose tops the pinks that grow

Are yet of those that April wears! But first set my poor heart free, Bound in those icy chains by thee.

SHAKESPEARE and JOHN FLETCHER.

WHY SO PALE AND WAN?

WHY SO pale and wan, fond lover?

Pr'y thee, why so pale?

Will, when looking well can't move her, Looking ill prevail?

Pr'y thee, why so pale?

Why so dull and mute, young sinner? Pr'y thee, why so mute?

Will, when speaking well can't win her, Saying nothing do't?

Pr'y thee, why so mute?

Quit, quit, for shame! this will not move, This cannot take her :

If of herself she will not love,

Nothing can make her :

The devil take her!

SIR JOHN SUCKLING

OUTGROWN.

NAY, you wrong her, my friend, she's not fickle; her love she has simply outgrown : One can read the whole matter, translating her heart by the light of one's own.

Can you bear me to talk with you frankly? There is much that my heart would say ; And you know we were children together, have quarrelled and "made up" in play.

And so, for the sake of old friendship, I venture to tell you the truth,

As plainly, perhaps, and as bluntly, as I might in our earlier youth.

The first stanza of this song appears in Shakespeare's

stanza added, is found in Beaumont and Fletchers Bloody

would kindle its holy fires.

A word unkind or wrongly taken, --O, love that tempests never shook,

A breath, a touch like this has shaken! And ruder words will soon rush in To spread the breach that words begin; And eyes forget the gentle ray They wore in courtship's smiling day; And voices lose the tone that shed A tenderness round all they said; Till fast declining, one by one, The sweetnesses of love are gone, And hearts so lately mingled, seem Like broken clouds, - or like the stream, That smiling left the mountain's brow,

As though its waters ne'er could sever, Yet, ere it reach the plain below,

Breaks into floods that part forever.

O you, that have the charge of Love,
Keep him in rosy bondage bound,

As in the Fields of Bliss above

I have not a doubt she was thinking then
Of her former lord, good soul that he was,
Who died the richest and roundest of men,
The Marquis of Carabas.

I hope that, to get to the kingdom of heaven,
Through a needle's eye he had not to pass;
I wish him well for the jointure given
To my lady of Carabas.

Meanwhile, I was thinking of my first love

As I had not been thinking of aught for years; Till over my eyes there began to move Something that felt like tears.

I thought of the dress that she wore last time,
When we stood 'neath the cypress-trees together,
In that lost land, in that soft clime,
In the crimson evening weather;

Of that muslin dress (for the eve was hot);
And her warm white neck in its golden chain;
And her full soft hair, just tied in a knot,
And falling loose again;

night,

With the wreath of pearl in her raven hair,

And the brooch on her breast so bright.

(O the faint, sweet smell of that jasmine flower!) And the one bird singing alone to his nest ; And the one star over the tower.