And where away lies Arcady, Ah, that (quoth he) I do not know: But how shall I do who cannot sing? I was wont to sing, once on a time,There is never an echo now to ring Remembrance back to the trick of rhyme. 'Tis strange you cannot sing (quoth he),— The folk all sing in Arcady. But how may he find Arcady Who hath nor youth nor melody? What, know you not, old man (quoth he),– Who hopes to see fair Arcady? Ah, woe is me, through all my days Wisdom and wealth I both have got, And fame and name and great men's praise; But Love, ah Love! I have it not. Ab, then I fear we part (quote he),— But you, you fare alone, like me; The gray is likewise in your hair. What Love have you to lead you there, To Arcady, to Arcady? Ah, no, not lonely do I fare; My true companion's Memory. With Love he fills the Spring-time air; My song goes straight to one who stands,- To wander with enlacing hands. Are all of her, are all of her, My maid is dead long years (quoth he), She waits for me in Arcady. Oh, yon's the way to Arcady, Where all the leaves are merry. Ella Wheeler Wilcox (1855- ) is a contributor to the current magazines and a popular writer of verse. WORTH WHILE1 'Tis easy enough to be pleasant When life flows along like a song; But the man worth while is the one who will smile When everything goes dead wrong. For the test of the heart is trouble, And it always comes with the years, And the smile that is worth the praise of earth It is easy enough to be prudent When nothing tempts you to stray; But it's only a negative virtue Until it is tried by fire, And the life that is worth the honor of earth Is the one that resists desire. By the cynic, the sad, the fallen, Who had no strength for the strife, But the virtue that conquers passion And the sorrow that hides in a smile— RECRIMINATION 2 Said Life to Death: "Methinks, if I were you, 1 Reprinted from Poems of Sentiment, by Ella Wheeler Wilcox, copyrighted 1892, 1906, by special permission of the publishers, The W. B. Conkey Company, Hammond, Ind. 2 Reprinted from Poems of Power, by Ella Wheeler Wilcox, copyrighted 1901, 1902, 1903, by special permission of the publishers, The W. B. Conkey Company, Hammond, Ind. And if indeed those wondrous tales be true II Said Death to Life: "If I were you, my friend, III Life made no answer, and Death spoke again: And crown it with all joy. If unto men My face seems awesome, tell me, Life, why then Believing in my silence lies redress For your loud falsehoods?" (so Death spoke again). "Oh, it is well for you I am not fair— Well that I hide behind a voiceless tomb The mighty secrets of the other place: Else would you stand in impotent despair, While unfledged souls straight from the mother's womb 12. George E. Woodberry (1855- ) is a graduate of Harvard. For many years he was professor of English literature at Columbia University. His verses show true poetic feeling. THE CHILD It was only the clinging touch In my own stretched out to his need, The sweetest thing the heart can divine, The crown of many joys, Lay in my breast, all mine. I was nothing to him; He neither looked up nor spoke; He was gone ere my mind awoke You say I ask too much: It hath made the whole day sweet. AMERICA TO ENGLAND Mother of nations, of them eldest we, |