The Door-step

The conference meeting throngh at laBt, We boys around the vestry waited, To see the girls come flittiügpast, Like snowbirda willing to be mated. Not braver he that leaps a wall By level niusket-flaehcB litten, Than I who stepped before them all, Who longed to seo me get the mitten. Bilt no - Bhe blushed and took my arm We let the old folks take the highway, And started toward the Maplo Farm, Along a kind of lovers' byway. I can't remember what we eaid ; 'Twas nothing worth a song or story, Yet that rude patli by which we Bped Seemed all transformed in glory. Tbe snow was crisp beneath our feet, The moon was f wil, the fields were glcaming; By hood and tippet uheltered sweet, Her face with youtk and health was beaming. The little band outslde her muff - Oh, sculptor, if you could but mold it !- So lightly touched my jacket enff, To keep it warm I had to hold it. To have her witn me - there alone- 'Twas love and fear and triumph blended ; At last we reached the foot-worn stone Whero tne delicious journey ended. The old folks, too, were almoet home ; Her dimpled hand the latches ftngered ; We heard he voioes nearer come, Yet on the door-step still we lingered, She shook her ringlets f rom her hood, And with a " thank you, Charles," dissembled, But yet I knew Bhe nnderstood With what a darling wish I trembled. A cloud paseed kindly overhead ; The moon waB slyly peeping throngh it, Yet hid its face, as if it said, 11 Jome,, now or never ! do it ! do it !" My lips till then had only known The Mbb of mother and of sister, But, somehow, f uil npon her own. Sweet roBy, darïing niouth I kissed her, Perhaps 'twas boyifh love, yet still, Oh, listless woman, weary lover, To feel once more that freah, wild thrill I'd give - but who can live youtb. over ?