LILITH.

(FOR A PICTURE.)

F Adam's first wife, Lilith, it is told

(The witch he loved before the gift of Eve), That, ere the snake's, her sweet tongue could deceive,

And her enchanted hair was the first gold.

And still she sits, young, while the earth is old,

And, subtly of herself contemplative,

Draws men to watch the bright web she can

weave,

Till heart and body and life are in its hold.

The rose and poppy are her flowers; for where
Is he not found, O Lilith, whom shed scent
And soft-shed kisses and soft sleep shall snare ?

Lo! as that youth's eyes burned at thine, so went
Thy spell through him, and left his straight neck
bent,

And round his heart one strangling golden hair.

DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI.

LOVE-SWEETNESS.

WEET dimness of her loosened hair's downfall
About thy face; her sweet hands round thy

head

In gracious fostering union garlanded; Her tremulous smiles; her glances' sweet recall Of love; her murmuring sighs memorial;

Her mouth's culled sweetness by thy kisses shed On cheeks and neck and eyelids, and so led Back to her mouth which answers there for all ;—

What sweeter than these things, except the thing

In lacking which all these would lose their

sweet:

The confident heart's still fervour; the swift beat And soft subsidence of the spirit's wing, Then when it feels, in cloud-girt wayfaring,

The breath of kindred plumes against its feet?

DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI.

THE BRIDESMAID.

BRIDESMAID, ere the happy knot was tied,
Thine eyes so wept that they could scarcely

see;

Thy sister smiled and said, "No tears for
me!

A happy bridesmaid makes a happy bride."
And then, the couple standing side by side,

Love lighted down between them full of glee,

And over his left shoulder laugh'd at thee, "O happy bridesmaid, make a happy bride." And all at once a pleasant truth I learn'd,

For while the tender service made thee weep, I loved thee for the tear thou couldst not hide, And prest thy hand, and knew the press return'd, And thought, "My life is sick of single sleep; O happy bridesmaid, make a happy bride!"

ALFRED TENNYSON.

SPRING LOVE.

ROM morn to evening, this day, yesterday,
We've walked within the garden'd paths

of love,

Till the moon rose the darkening woods
above:

We've seen the blossoming apple's crimson spray,
And watched the hiving bees work lustily,

As if their time was short as it was sweet:

Along love's meadow-lands too, with glad feet, We've welcomed all the wild flowers come with May.

Bend thy sweet head; I've strung this long woodbine With primroses and cowslips-golden fringe

For golden hair, the flowers that best express

The opening of the year, the mild sunshine,
And the frank clearness of those thoughtless eyes,
Through which there gleams scarce-trusted

blessedness.

WILLIAM BELL SCOTT.

WHY

@HY do I love thee?" Thus, in earnest wise, I answer: Sweet! I love thee for thy face

Of rarest beauty; and for every grace That in thy voice and air and motion lies; I love thee for the love-look in thine eyes,The melting glance which only one may see Of all who mark how beautiful they be; I love thee for thy mind (which yet denies, For modesty, how wonderful it is!)

I love thee for thy heart so true and warm,
I love thee for thy bosom's hidden charm ;
I love thee for thy mouth so sweet to kiss;

Because of these I love thee; yet above
All else, because I cannot choose but love!

JOHN GODFREY SAXF.