From a photograph by the Berlin Photographic Co., after a painting by MARCUS STONE, an English artist, noted for his portrayal of the romantic element in life.

POEMS OF LOVE.

I.

ADMIRATION.

WHEN IN THE CHRONICLE OF
WASTED TIME.

SONNET CVI.

WHEN in the chronicle of wasted time I see descriptions of the fairest wights, And beauty making beautiful old rhyme, In praise of ladies dead, and lovely knights; Then, in the blazon of sweet beauty's best Of hand, of foot, of lip, of eye, of brow, I see their antique pen would have expressed Even such a beauty as you master now. So all their praises are but prophecies Of this our time, all you prefiguring; And, for they looked but with divining eyes, They had not skill enough your worth to sing; For we, which now behold these present days, Have eyes to wonder, but lack tongues to praise.

3

SHAKESPEARE.

DAYBREAK.

THE lark now leaves his watery nest,
And climbing shakes his dewy wings,
He takes your window for the east,

And to implore your light, he sings;
Awake, awake, the morn will never rise,
Till she can dress her beauty at your eyes.

The merchant bows unto the seaman's star,
The ploughman from the sun his season takes;
But still the lover wonders what they are,

Who look for day before his mistress wakes: Awake, awake, break through your veils of lawn! Then draw your curtains and begin the dawn.

SIR WILLIAM DAVENANT.

SHALL I COMPARE THEE?

SONNET XVIII.

SHALL I compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer's lease hath all too short a date:
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimmed:
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance, or nature's changing course, un-
trimmed.

But thy eternal summer shall not fade

Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest;