Gems In Verse

want U Bing sometblng- but this is all- I try and 1 try, but the rhymes are dull, Ae though were damp, and Uieechoes fall Limp and uulovable, Words will not say what I yearn to say- They will not walk as I want them to; 3ut they stumble and fall in the path o( the way Of my telling my love for you. Simply take what the scrawl is worth- Knowing I love you as sun the sod On the ripening side of the great round earth That swings in the sruile of God. -James Whitcomb Riley. A City Courtshlp. The proper place for courting, By the story books' reporting. Is some lane or meadow path way, nut of sight of town; With the sweetness blowing over From the fields of beans and clover. And the skylark dropping nestward as the Bun goes down. But I've met my little Sally At the mouth of Dawson's alley. And we've walked along together tow'rd the dome of Paul's, 'Neath the Haring lamps and gases. And the shouling of the drivers and the newsboys' calis. And the lily of the valley That 1 gave my little Sally Was the faded penny bouquet that a flower glrl sells; She has uever seen one growing, As it's easy to be showing, For its birthplace is the Dreamland that'3 beyoud Bow Bells. Oh, it pains me in our walking- All the ouths and shameful talking, And the folks that brush her passing, and the glances bold! But though eril things may touch her, They can never hurt or smutch her, For she turns the dirt to sweetness, as a flower does the mold. Nay, it's not in country places, 'Mid the fields and simple faces. Out of sight and sound oí evil, that a pure heart grows; It is here in London city, In the sin and ghame and pity; For the pure heartdraws ita pureness from the wrong it knows. When my Sally's sweetness found me, I was like the men around me- I was coarse and low and selfish aa the beast that dies: But her grace began to win me, And my heart was changed within me. And I learned to pray from gazing in my darling's eyes. - Fredorick Labryndge. Give Cs Men of Ilraiun. Yea, give us brains behind the plow, Behind the oounter's hem; Set on the manufactureras brow Like royal diadem- Yea, give us men of brains! Of finer sense, of larger tbought, Wherever manhood reigns- By all the pow'rs of learning fraught In might its kingship trains- Yea, give U3 men of brains! For they survive when empires fade. TT J UT U J-l L li L) 1-1 l UUL UUOb ■ ÜLIIftl UO To teil of lordly acolade On tiiue's iQcipieut gains- Yea, k'vo as men of brainsl Brains fnr the mind, brains for the mart, Brains for the home and hall: In consecration set apart For princely coronall Yea, give us men of brains! - Woman's Work. The Rival Miuntrels. Harun-al-Rashid loved his harem's maids: He loved his gardens, with their wending shades; He loved to watch his crystal fount&ins play; He loved his horses aud bis courtiers gay; He loved all royai sports that please a king, Bat most he loved to hear his minstrels siug. And so it happened that his fame had brougbt Two rival singera to the caliphs court. Who pleased him best, full well each minBtrel knew, Woald be proclaimed the greater of the two. So well they pleased him that they found him loath To choose between them, for he loved them both. "Let all the nation judge," at leagth said he; Who pleases best my people, pleases me." Through all the land the rival poeta sang; Their Dames and music were on every toogue, Until at last they never reached a door Wbere fame had not sang all tfccir songs fore. Ben Olaf sang of deeds the caliph wrought, The riches and the splendors of his court; The mighty warrior3 cvery uation boasts. And armies vanquished by the pro-phet'B hosts; How Islam's valor was beloved and feared; And when he ñnished listening thous&nds cheered. Mr.staphu's songs were all of simpler tilinga: Foryotteu was the pride of earthly kings. He sang to them of home and truth and love; How Allah watched his cbildren from above. Close to their hearts the poet's music crept. And when he flnished all the people wept. For though Ben Olaf charmed them with his arts, It was Mustapha's songs that reached their hearts. - James G. BurnetU Master of Hi Fate. Out of the night that rovers me. Black as the pit trom pole to pole, I Ihink whatevcr g(jds niay be For my unconquerable soul. In the feil clutoh of circumstance I have not winced nor cried aloud; Under the bludyeonings of chance My head is bloody, but unbowed. Beyond this place of wrath and tears Looms but the horror of the shade: And yet the meuace of the years Finds and shall flnd me unafraid. It matters not how straight the gate, How charged wi,h punishments th se rol 1 - I am the master of my fate: I am the captain of my soul. -W. E. HenUy. Love's Meaning. I thought it meant all glad, ecstatic things- Fond glance and touch and speech, quick blood and brain. And strong desire and keen, delicious pain. And beauty's thrall, and strauge bewilderinga Twixt hope and fear, like to the little stings The rose thorn gives, and then the uttergain- Worth all my sorest striving to attain- Of the dear biiss long sought possession gives. Now- with a sad, clear sight that reassures My often sinking soul, witb. longiog eyes Averted from the pata tbat still allures, Lest, seeing that for which my sore heart sighs, I seek my own good at the cost of yours - I know at last that love meaos sarritice. - Carlotta Perry. A Queer Combtutttion. What a queer combination of cheek and versity, Lnsolence, pride, gab, impudence, vanity, Jealousy, bate, sooro, baseness, insanity, donor, truth, wisdom, virtue, urb&nity. Is tbat whimsical biped called man! Who can fathom the deptha of his innato de pravity? roday he's all gayety, tomorrow all gravity. for blowing bis own horn he has a propensity. Even under clouds of singular deasity. Oh, mythioal clay bank called man! - líriírkniíUcer. An engaging cx-casiion- Proposing m arria ge.