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M(fm Jlrps. Within my room' serene seclusion, Dwells eyermore a pictured face, Dream-haunted, like a rapt Carthusian, With solomn eyes of tonderest grace, Whioli soem to compaBs land and sen, Yot novor look on me. Oh, eyes whicli gaze beyond and over, Yet never meet and answer mine, What may your teadfast quest discover On the horizon's hazy line ? AVhat chann in yonder distanoe lies, Oh, sad and wistful eyes ? Ilopoful despito their depth of grieving, Still pationtly they watch afar, As though awaiting or perceiviug The dawn of some unriBen star - The star which often and again My own hare sought in vain. Sometimos methiuk its growing splendor Briglitons and glows on brow aud cheek, - The eyes grow luminous and tender, The Iip8 half tremblo as to speak. And all tho face transfigured seems I!y sneet prophetic dreama. Ali, if when years have told their atory, Those dreams shall come divinelv true, That dim dawu bloom to sudden glory- This face vrill shino as angels' do, - Tlifse eyes, more dear than angels' be, WïH look - at last - on me ! - Scribner's f ar June.