SHE CAME AND WENT.

3S a twig trembles which a bird

Lights on to sing, then leaves unbent, So is my memory thrilled and stirred ;I only know she came and went.

As clasps some lake, by gusts unriven,
The blue dome's measureless content,
So my soul held that moment's heaven ;-
I only know she came and went.

As, at one bound, our swift Spring heaps
The orchards full of bloom and scent,
So clove her May my wintry sleeps ;-
I only know she came and went.

An angel stood and met my gaze,
Through the low doorway of my tent;
The tent is struck, the vision stays ;-
I only know she came and went.

Oh, when the room grows slowly dim,
And life's last oil is nearly spent,
One gush of light these eyes will brim,
Only to think she came and went.

JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL.

NEVER AGAIN.

EVER again. This shivering rose, that sees
Its dwindled blossoms droop and fall to earth
Before the chillness of the autumn rain,

Will bud next summer with more fair than these-
But when have love's waned smiles a second birth?
Never again, never again.

Never again. Oh, dearest, do you know
All the long mournfulness of such a word?
And even you who smile now on my pain
May seek some day for love lost long ago,
And sigh to the long echo faintly heard-
Never again, never again.

Never again. The love we break to-day
May linger in my heart unto the last;

And even with you some memory must remain,

But ah! no more.

The sunlight died away

Will wake again, but never wakes the past

Never again, never again.

AUGUSTA WEBSTER.

I.

HAT matter—what matter-O friend, though

O'er the sands so tawny and tender and wide,
Murmuring soft as a bee ?—

"No matter, no matter, in sooth," said he :
"But the sunlit sand and the silvery play,
Are a trustful smile long past away:

-No more to me!"

II.

What matter-what matter-dear friend, can it be,
If a long blue stripe, dim-swelling and dark,
Beneath the lighter blue headland, may mark
All of the town we can see ?—

"No matter, no matter, in truth," said he :

"But the streak that fades and fades as we part, Is a broken voice and a breaking heart:

-No more to me!"

ALFRED DOMETT.

LOVE AND FRIENDSHIP.

WEET in the flow'ry garland of our love,
Where fancy, folly, frenzy, interwove
Our diverse destinies, not all unkind,

A secret strand of purest gold entwined.

While bloomed the magic flowers we scarcely knew
The gold was there. But now their petals strew
Life's pathway; and instead, with scarce a sigh,
We see the cold but fadeless circlet lie.

With scarce a sigh !—and yet the flowers were fair,
Fed by youth's dew and love's enchanted air.
Ay, fair as youth and love; but doomed, alas!
Like these and all things beautiful, to pass.

But this bright thread of unadulterate ore-
Friendship-will last though Love exist no more;
And though it lack the fragrance of the wreath,-
Unlike the flowers, it hides no thorn beneath.

SIR NOEL PATON.