Why, the gold cloud grows leaden, as the eve
Deepens, and one by one its glories leave.
And, if you press me, dear, why this is so,
That this is worth a tear is all I know.
Time flows and rows and goes.

In that old day the subtle child-god came;
Meek were his eyelids, but his eyeballs flame,
With sandals of desire his light feet shod,
With eyes and breath of fire a perfect god
He rose, my girl, he rose.

He went, my girl, and raised your hand and sighed,
"Would that my spirit always could abide."
And whispered "Go your ways and play your day,
Would I were god of time, but my brief sway
Is briefer than a rose."

Old wife, old love, there is a something yet
That makes amends, though all the glory set;
The after-love that holds thee trebly mine,
Though thy lips fade, my dove, and we decline,
And time, dear heart, still goes.

HON. JOHN LEICESTER WARREN.

RENUNCIATION.

H no! you shall not catch me in the snare-
I will not love, I say!

Life might become a terror, a despair,
If you were ta'en away.

Nothing is given here, 'tis only lent,

I will not, dare not, trust:

For joy might strike at once his heaven-built tent, And leave me but its dust.

What horror, after all my life was given,

Adventured on one barque,

If that should go, even to the joy of heaven,
And I left in the dark!

Left on a wreck of sorrow, with no power
My losses to repair;

With death denied, and every torturing hour
By memory made a snare.

Left with the dregs of life, its wine poured out;

Left to the past a prey;

From its sad ghosts that haunt my heart about, Helpless to flee away.

No! I renounce life's bliss-love's perfect flower, Sweet though it be !-I choose

The lower, lasting lot, and keep the power,

Without a pang, to lose.

WINDLE-STRAWS.

I.

ERE life to last for ever, love,

We might go hand in hand,

And pause and pull the flowers that blow
In all the idle land;

And we might lie in sunny fields

And while the hours away With fallings-out and fallings-in For half a summer day.

But since we two must sever, love,
Since some dim hour we part,

I have no time to give thee much
But quickly take my heart,

"For ever thine," and "thine my love,”

O Death may come apace.

What more of love could life bestow,

Dearest, than this embrace?

II.

OHE kissed me on the forehead,
She spake not any word,

The silence flowed between us,

And I nor spoke nor stirred.

So hopeless for my sake it was,

So full of ruth, so sweet,

My whole heart rose and blessed her,

-Then died before her feet.

EDWARD DOWDEN.