I.

SEHAT matter-what matter-O friend, though

the Sea

In lines of silvery fire may slide

O'er the sands so tawny and tender and wide,
Murmuring soft as a bee ?-

"No matter, no matter, in sooth," said he :
"But the sunlit sand and the silvery play,
Are a trustful smile long past away :
-No more to me!"

II.

What matter-what matter-dear friend, can it be,
If a long blue stripe, dim-swelling and dark,
Beneath the lighter blue headland, may mark
All of the town we can see ?—

"No matter, no matter, in truth," said he :

"But the streak that fades and fades as we part,

Is a broken voice and a breaking heart:

-No more to me!"

ALFRED DOMETT.

LOVE AND FRIENDSHIP.

WEET! in the flow'ry garland of our love,
Where fancy, folly, frenzy, interwove
Our diverse destinies, not all unkind,

A secret strand of purest gold entwined.

While bloomed the magic flowers we scarcely knew
The gold was there. But now their petals strew
Life's pathway; and instead, with scarce a sigh,
We see the cold but fadeless circlet lie.

With scarce a sigh !—and yet the flowers were fair,
Fed by youth's dew and love's enchanted air.
Ay, fair as youth and love; but doomed, alas !
Like these and all things beautiful, to pass.

But this bright thread of unadulterate oreFriendship-will last though Love exist no more; And though it lack the fragrance of the wreath,— Unlike the flowers, it hides no thorn beneath.

SIR NOEL PATON.

DALLYING.

EAR love, I have not ask'd you yet;
Nor heard you, murmuring low
As wood-doves by a rivulet,

Say if it shall be so.

The colour on your cheek, which plays
Like an imprison'd bliss,
To its unworded language, says,
"Speak, and I'll answer 'Yes.'"

See, pluck this flower of wood-sorrel,
And twine it in your hair;

Its woodland grace becomes you well,
And makes my rose more fair.

Oft you sit 'mid the daisies here,
And I lie at your feet;

Yet day by day goes by ;-I fear

To break a trance so sweet.

As some first autunın tint looks strange,
And wakes a strange regret,

Would your soft "yes" our loving change?-
Love, I'll not ask you yet.

THOMAS ASHE.

CHARMIAN.

TN the time when water-lilies shake

Their green and gold on river and lake,

When the cuckoo calls in the heart o' the

heat,

When the Dog-star foams and the shade is sweet; Where cool and fresh the River ran,

I sat by the side of Charmian,

And heard no sound from the world of man.

All was so sweet and still that day!
The rustling shade, the rippling stream,
All life, all breath, dissolved away
Into a golden dream;

Warm and sweet the scented shade
Drowsily caught the breeze and stirred,
Faint and low through the green glade
Came hum of bee and song of bird.
Our hearts were full of drowsy bliss,
And yet we did not clasp nor kiss,
Nor did we break the happy spell

With tender tone or syllable.

D

But to ease our hearts and set thought free We pluckt the flowers of a red Rose-tree, And leaf by leaf, we threw them, Sweet, Into the river at our feet,

And in an indolent delight,

Watched them glide onward, out of sight.

Sweet, had I boldly spoken then,

How might my love have garner'd thee!
But I had left the paths of men,
And sitting yonder dreamily,
Was happiness enough for me!
Seeking no gift of word or kiss,
But looking in thy face, was bliss!
Plucking the Rose-leaves in a dream,

Watching them glimmer down the stream,
Knowing that Eastern heart of thine
Shared the dim ecstasy of mine!

Then, while we linger'd, cold and gray
Came twilight, chilling soul and sense;
And you arose to go away,

Full of a sweet indifference!

I missed the spell-I watch'd it break,-
And such come never twice to man:

In a less golden hour I spoke,
And did not win thee, Charmian!

For wearily we turned away
Into the world of everyday,