A lord and a lady went up at full sail,
When a bee chanced to light on the opposite scale;
Ten doctors, ten lawyers, two courtiers, one earl,
Ten counsellors' wigs, full of powder and curl,
All heaped in one balance and swinging from
thence,

Weighed less than a few grains of candor and

sense;

A first-water diamond, with brilliants begirt,

Than one good potato just washed from the dirt; Yet not mountains of silver and gold could suffice

One pearl to outweigh,-'twas THE PEARL OF

GREAT PRICE.

Last of all, the whole world was bowled in at the

grate,

With the soul of a beggar to serve as a weight, When the former sprang up with so strong a re

buff

That it made a vast rent and escaped at the roof!
When balanced in air, it ascended on high,
And sailed up aloft, a balloon in the sky;
While the scale with the soul in't so mightily fell
That it jerked the philosopher out of his cell.

THE LADY'S YES.

ELIZABETH B. BROWNING.

"Yes,"

," I answered you last night; "No," this morning, sir, I say: Colors seen by candle-light

Will not look the same by day.

When the viols played their best,
Lamps above and laughs below,
Love me sounded like a jest,
Fit for yes or fit for no.

Call me false or call me free,
Vow, whatever light may shine,—

No man on your face shall see
Any grief for change on mine.

Yet the sin is on us both;

Time to dance is not to woo; Wooing light makes fickle troth, Scorn of me recoils on you.

Learn to win a lady's faith

Nobly as the thing is high, Bravely, as for life and death, With a loyal gravity.

Lead her from the festive boards,
Point her to the starry skies;
Guard her by your truthful words,
Pure from courtship's flatteries.

By your truth she shall be true,
Ever true, as wives of yore;
And her yes, once said to you,
SHALL be Yes for evermore.

A HUNDRED YEARS TO COME. Who'll press for gold this crowded street, A hundred years to come?

Who'll tread yon church with willing feet,
A hundred years to come?

Pale, trembling age and fiery youth,
And childhood with his brow of truth,
The rich and poor, on land, on sea,
Where will the mighty millions be,
A hundred years to come?

We all within our graves shall sleep,
A hundred years to come;
No living soul for us will weep,

A hundred years to come.

But other men our land will till,
And others then our streets will fill,
And other words will sing as gay,
And bright the sunshine as to-day,
A hundred years to come.

Come in the evening, or come in the morning; Come when you're looked for, or come without warning;

Kisses and welcome you'll find here before you, And the oftener you come here, the more I'll adore you!

Light is my heart since the day we were plighted; Red is my cheek that they told me was blighted; The green of the trees looks far greener than ever, And the linnets are singing, "True lovers don't sever!"

I'll pull you sweet flowers to wear if you choose them,

Or, after you've kissed them, they'll lie on my bosom;

I'll fetch from the mountain its breeze to inspire

you;

I'll fetch from my fancy a tale that won't tire

you.

Oh! your step's like the rain to the summer-vexed farmer,

Or sabre and shield to a knight without armor; I'll sing you sweet songs till the stars rise above

me,

Then, wandering, I'll wish you in silence to love

me.

We'll look through the trees at the cliff and the

eyrie;

We'll tread round the rath on the track of the'

fairy;

We'll look on the stars and we'll list to the river, Till you ask of your darling what gift you can give her.

Oh! she'll whisper you,-"Love as unchangeably beaming,

And trust, when in secret most tunefully stream

ing

Till the starlight of heaven above us shall quiver, As our souls flow in one down eternity's river."

So come in the evening, or come in the morning; Come when you're looked for, or come without warning;