And when the last trump that awakes the dead
Shall echo through heaven's dome,
Smith's family will climb up the golden stairs,
Like camp-meeting going home.
What matter though my pilgrim feet
May never press the stranger's land,
Or wander lone where wild waves beat
With ceaseless moan on ocean's strand?
For me expands a lovelier deep,
Whose isles in visioned beauty sleep;
And never ocean waves could be
So bright as thine, fair dreamland sea.
My castle crowns the boldest steep
By warring winds and waters scarred,
That seaward leans, and o'er the deep
Keeps evermore unceasing ward.
Full-freighted with their wings of snow,
The white ships come, the white ships go;
While in the shade of cliff and towers
I dream away the gliding hours.
My fairy fleet that long has lain
Close moored in some enchanted bay,
Borne by fair gales across the main
Sails swifty on its homeward way.
My ships, my stately ships, I see !
Full many a royal argosie,
Like white-winged birds they speeding come
And bring their garnered treasures home.
Wee Joukydaidles, toddlin' oot an' in ;
Oh, but she's a cutty, makin' sic a din!
Aye so fu' o' mischief, and minds na what I say: My very heart gangs loup, loup, fifty times a day!
Wee Joukydaidles: where's she stumpin' noo?
She's tumblin' i' the cruivie, and lauchin' to the soo,
Noo she sees my angry ee, an' aff she's like a hare!
Lassie, when I get ye, I'll scud ye till ye're sair!
Wee Joukydaidles: noo she's breakin' dishes;
Noo she's soakit i' the burn, catchin' little fishes;
Noo she's i' the barn-yard, playin' wi' the fouls,
Feedin' them wi' butter-cakes, snaps an' sugars bools!
'
James Smith.
LE MARIAGE DE CONVENANCE.
You have called for a glimpse of my trousseau?
How nice! just step into my room;
And Alice please draw back that curtain,
This place is as dark as a tomb!
I'll ring for Lisette; you don't know, girls,
What a bother this marrying brings!
But it pays, after all, when it's over-
I have some such elegant things!
This garnet and rose Uncle Arthur
Selected in Paris last June;
Worth made it! Just notice the trimming,
The lace, the exquisite galloon!
This sack is a present from Flora;
She's living in Paris, you know.
I waited on her when she married
Old Simons, a twelve-month ago.
They say that her rooms are palatial,
And all in such wonderful style;
Quite a change-to a man with a million
From a thousand a year and Tom Lyle-
By the way, Colonel Harrison tells me
Poor Tom is a wreck of himself,
Has drank ever since she was married.
There's my blue moire antique on the shelf,
You need not unfold it, Lisette,
We see how it's made; please to find me
That yellow-hued Honiton set.
You remember that queer old Aunt Hester
Who staid here last winter awhile,
And preached to me so about Flora
And sympathized so with Tom Lyle?
The lace, like herself, is old-fashioned,
But fit for the praise of a king.
She sent it, confess that you think it
Right good in the clever old thing.
I've a set of magnificent diamonds
As pure as a cluster of tears;
The gift of his precious old father-
They've been in the family for years.
And there are my rose-colored cameos,
Don't you see? by the pearls-just this side';
I promise their match to whoever
Among you will be the next bride.
The wonderful dress of all dresses,
The robe of to-morrow, you know,
So perfectly stylish and splendid—
I've promised mamma not to show.
Claude says I'll be so bewildering
He'll forget to remember the ring. Come, Alice, of what are you thinking? "Of the lover who loved me last spring?"
Bah! fold up my dresses, Lisette,
And don't let my jewel-case fall;
It's well, Alice, some one remembers-
I never think of him at all.
Dear me, how time flies! I must hurry;
Claude said he was coming at eight.
Good-night. They are gone; and I alone in my chamber,
Door locked and the close curtains drawn.
Alone with my jewels and laces,
A sobbing, a miserable thing,
Alone with the thoughts that possess me
Of that lover who loved me last spring.
God knows I believed that you loved me,
As we sat on the steps in the dark;
I remember the words that you uttered-
I know that they mean nothing now.
And yet with the thought that you loved me,
My cheek caught the soft scarlet stain
Of the sweet, happy shame of the woman
Who loves and is loved back again.
And when you were gone and the moonlight
Rose softly and late o'er the scene,
I knelt in that dim, dewy garden,
In happy thanksgiving and prayer.
My life to your mood was a mirror-
God pity such mirrors as these!—
My heart was a deep-thrilling organ,
Your love was the hand on the keys.
Ah, dear, you were sure that I loved you
Although I said never a word,
Why, the wild heart that beat in my bosom
A child could have listened and heard.
And you said, laughing low, "Do you fancy
Your silence deceives me to-night?"
And I faltered and failed in the answer,
I would have made careless and light.
I had prayed for love's fruit and before me,
Behold! it hung golden and fair!
But how could I dream it had ripened
Beside the dead sea of despair!
God gave it to me in its beauty!
Within it the cold ashes lay.
I have eaten that fruit and its knowledge
Stands bitterly by me to-day.
What have I left now but a memory,
And perhaps a pale flower or two?
A dainty blue robe that was ruined
By sitting too long in the dew;
A book that you brought me that evening
When you came in the storm and the rain;
The ghost of a kiss on my forehead,
An anguish of lingering pain.
Oh! life is a terrible drama!
Each actor must play out his rôle !
To-morrow I stand at the altar
With a lie on my lips and my soul!
My God! When I see on my finger
The gleam of that bright marriage ring,
Oh! shelter my soul from the memory
Of the lover who loved me last spring.
If all the ships I have at sea
Should come a sailing home to me,
Ah well! The harbor would not hold
So many sails as there would be,
If all my ships came in from sea.
If half my ships came in from sea
And brought their precious freight to me,
Ah well! I should have wealth as great
As any king that sits in state,
So rich the treasures that would be
In half my ships now out at sea.
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