Our Poet's Column

Editor oCowíer: Would you kindly grant me space in your columns for the publicatiou ot "Pictures Three," an extract from whieh was printed iu the current uumber o( Iulauder, although the intention upon my part had beeu, of cQtirse, that the verse should appear iu toto? The dift'erence between the original and the extract referred to is too apparent for me to state the reason I desire its re-publicatiou by theCouriui. Sincerely, Geo. R. Barkee. Ann Arbor,.Iau,28, 1895. PICTURES THREE. G. R. J5ARKEK. I. 'T'.vas only a wave of your hand, Mabelle, 'Twas only a wave of your hani. As you stood hidf-way np the hill that day As the sun went down to its couch o!' red, And the wind just bruahed a tear awuy Tliine own l)lue uves h:v ahnost slied, And tlie simlight caught you in a moment's embrace, Kissinp; your figure and kissins your i'ace; 'Twas only a wave of your hand, Mabelle But it made me to love you ever so well. ii. 'Tvvas only a word of your mouth, Mabelle, 'Twas only n word of your mouth, When you plucked the violet small and shy. Aud said that the tlower was like true, true love, With lts tender, sweet face upturned to tlie sky, That it had 110 thorn to hurt thro' the glove; Aud after all. didu't this datuty, frail flower Have its klngdom as well as the rose its bower? "Twas ouly these words of your mouth, Mabelle, But thev made me to love you ever so well. III. 'Twas only your hand u the waltz, Mabelle, 'Twas only your iiand in the waltz, Wheii the muele was playing so soft and so low, Sobbing and slghiog like young hearts a-dyinï, When the chords that we love- don't yon know? - Broke in and our eyes met without seekiug or trying; And your hand so delicate, white and sosmall, Yon placed so in trust in mine- that was all; 'Twas ouly your hand in the yaltz, Mabelle, lint ir. mnriii me to lnve vou ever so wuil. IV. 'Tis ouly these pictures three, Mabelle, 'Tis unly these pictures three, That out of it all I reraember, sweetheart, The rest were the same tliiugs over again; But i'oi' these I would follow you luto the dark ; And were the chrism oL love but a dull, sad braiu That gnawed at the ceart forever and aye, I would hóld it so close lest it strayed away; 'Tis ouly these pictures three, Mabelle. But turo' thera vou led me to heaven or heil.