Caprice At Home

No, I will not say goodby- Not goodby, nor anything. He is gone. . . .■ I wonder why I.iliws are not sweet this spring? How that tiresoine bird will singl I might follow liim and say Just that he forgot to kiss Baby, when he went away. Everything I want I miss. Oh, a precious world is this! What if night carne and not he? Somethiug might mislead bis feet. Does the moon rise late? Ah, me! There are things that he might meet. Now the rain begins to beat: So it will be dark. Thebell? Some one some one loves is dead; Were it he- I eannot tell Half the fretful words I said. Half the fretful tears I shed. Dead? And but to think of doath; Men might bring him through the gate: Lips that have not any breath, Êyes that stare- And I must wait! ís it time, or is it late? I was wrong, and wrong, and wrong; I will teil liim, oh, be sure! If the heavens are builded strong, Love shall therein be secure; Lovo like mine shall there endure. Listen, listen- that is he! I'll not speak to him, I say, If he chose to say to me, "I was all to blame today; Sweet, forgive me," why- I may!