Gems In Verse

Wc couut the broken lyn - that rest Where the sweet iralting slngers slnmber, But o'er thelr silcnt sisti r'a breaat Tho wild flowera who will stoop to number? A few eau touch tho magie string, And imisy Cam6 ta prooé to wiu them! Alas! for those that oever n, But dio witli all theil niusic in theml Nny, trrieve not for thu dead alono, Yllose sonochas told tln-ii1 licar! b' sal slory; [or the vMici !,■--, ui:o ui ■ known The cross without the crown oí gloryl Kol where Lencadlan breeze ; Bwept O'et Sappho's memory Uaunted billow, But where the glistening niiiht deivs wept On namelesa sorrow'g chorchyard pillow. Oh, hearts that break and givc no sisn, Savu whltenlng Upa and faded tresses, Tül death pours out his cordial wlne, Blowdropp'd trom mlaery' crniihlng preeses! If singin'4 liri'ath or eoholng chord ïo every bidden pang were ven, W!; ii endlesa melodies were ponred. As t-ad as earth, :i aweet ae beavi al - OUver Weudell Holmes. Janettu's Ilair. "Oh, loosen the snood that ymi wear, Janotte, !.ri me tangle a hand in your hair, my pet"- iIk; world i" me hu do daintier sight Than your brown hair velling your shoulders white, ,s I tangled a hand in y ur huir, my pet, It was brown witli a gold ïq glose, Janette, It was Snee thaii eilk of Uie Sosa, my pet; "Twu a boautiful mist falling dowu to your wrist, Twas a thingtobc bralded&nd jeweled and kised- TwftB the lovellest Qair in tbo world, my pctl My arm was the arm of a clown, Janette, It was sinewy, brlstled and brown, my pet; liut warmly and soft 1 y il loved lo carosa Your round, white neck and your wealth of tn-ss, Vour beautiful plenty of hair, my pet. Vour eyes had a swimmlng tlory, Jauette, Revealiiiij the old, dear story, my put; Thcy were gray, witli that chasteued tinge of the sky When the trout leaps quickest to snap the fly■Vnd thiy matched with your golden hair, my pet'. Vour lips- but I have no words, Janette; rheywere fresh as the twitterof birds, my pet; vVIrii tiie iprlng 3 young and the roses are wet rt'ith dewdropa in each red blossom set, A.nd they snited your gold brown hair, my pet. Dh, you tausled my life in your hair, Janette; 'Twas a silken and golden snare, my pet; But so gentle a bondage my soul dld implore The right to continue your slave evermore, With my fmgers enmeshed in your hair, my per. rhus ever I dream what you were, Janette; With your lips, and your eyes, and your hair, my pet; In tlio darkness of desolate years I moan. And my tears fall bitterly over the ston l'hat covers your golden hair, my pet. -Miles O'Reilly. Purpose. The r.ses of sorrow I couaprehend Better and better at each year'a end. Deejiir and deeper I seem to see Why and whereforu it has to be. Only afliT the (lark wet days Do we fiiliy rejoico in the sun's brightrays. Sweeter the ernst t astea after the fast Than the satt-il icormaifd1! tiueát repast. The Calnteet cheer sounds never amiss To the actor who once has heard a hiss. And uno whu has d welt with his grief alona Heara all the masía tu friendship's tone. So. better and better I comprehend Hou" sorrow ever would be our friend. - Ella Wheeler Wilcox. A Lament. My brothcr Will ue used to be The nicest kind of girl; He wore a Uttle dross like me. And had liis bair in curl. We played with dolle and tea sets then. And cvery kind of toy; But all those good old tiruesare gone - Wil'= Lamed into a boy. Mamma has made hiin Uttle salta, With pockets in the pants. And cut off all his yellow curia And sent tbem tO my aunts; And Will be was so pleased I b'lieve He alniost jamped for Joy: But 1 declara 1 didu't like Will turned tnto a boy. And now be playa witb horrid tops 1 don't know how to spin, And marbles that I try to shoot, But never bit or win; And leapfrog- I can't give a "back1 Like Chnrley, Frank or Roy. Oh, no one knows how bad I feel Since Will bas turned a boy! I have to svear tlie frocks be left. And, obl thoy'ro awful tigbt; 1 have to hit and just be good, hu eau ciimb and fiht; I have to keep my dreaaea nice And wear my iiair In curl. And worst- oh. worvtert thingof all! I have to t&ay a girl. And maybe he'U be president Or emperor or king; For boys eau do Juat wliat they please, But tris cant bc a thing. It' awfol dull to it and play With Nelly, Lili and Floy; Wliy was 1 choow il it be a girl And Wü! tobe a boy? - Harper'a Young People. Lüe's l'it.v. I Ihiak tbc pity of this li!f is [ove; For thongh my rosebod, thrilling into life, ICissed by the lovebeams of the glowing sun, Meets his fond gae with her pure, tender eyes, Filled wilb tbc rapture of a glad surprise That from his light her glory shall be won: Yet, when into her vlty heart be bighs, Beliolú! sha puts away lier life- and dies. I th'ink the pity of thla Ufe is lOTei Because to me but little joy has come Of all that most 1 boped would make life's sun; For thougb the perfuined seasons come and go, The spring birds warblo, e'en the rivers flow To meet some love that to their own doth run, My bud of love hath bloomed for other eycs. And 1 am left - to eorrow and to sighs. I think the pity of this life is love; For from our love we gather all litVs pain, And placo too oft our heart on carthly shriius, Where we would kneel- but wbcre, alasl we fall Bcneath a shadow ever past recall; We seek for gold, when 'tiá but dross that shines. Then if we may not turn our hearts above, I know the pity of Ibis life is love. - Overland Monthly. Usually the Case. Help a man ont of trouble, and though he'll forget Your kindness as soon as his trouble is o'er - If ever agaln in a hole he should get, Ah! then he will think of you kindly once more. -Puck. A Pvenmer Lives Forever. Let me dream as of old by tho rivor. And be loved for the dream alway; For a dreamer lives forever And a toiler dies ii a dav. -John Boyle O'Reilly. Jfake a backAvnrd spvinfr - Acrobats.