For she was jes' the quiet kind

Whose naturs never vary,

Like streams that keep a summer mind
Snowhid in Jenooary.

The blood clost roun' her heart felt glued
Too tight for all expressin',

Tell mother see how metters stood,
An' gin' 'em both her blessin'.

Then her red come back like the tide
Down to the Bay o' Fundy,

An all I know is they was cried
In meetin' come nex' Sunday.

JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL.

I

LAY i' the bosom of the sun,

Under the roses dappled and dun.

I thought of the Sultan Gingerbeer,

In his palace beside the Bendemeer,

With his Affghan guards and his eunuchs blind,
And the harem that stretched for a league behind.
The tulips bent i' the summer breeze,
Under the broad chrysanthemum-trees,
And the minstrel, playing his culverin,
Made for mine ears a merry din.
If I were the Sultan, and he were I,
Here i' the grass he should loafing lie,
And I should bestride my zebra steed,
And ride to the hunt of the centipede:
While the pet of the harem, Dandeline,
Should fill me a crystal bucket of wine,

And the kislar aga, Up-to-Snuff,

Should wipe my mouth when I sighed, "Enough!" And the gay court-poet, Fearfulbore,

I "The Echo Club."

Should sit in the hall when the hunt was o'er,
And chant me songs of silvery tone,
Not from Hafiz, but — mine own!

Ah, wee sweet love, beside me here,
I am not the Sultan Gingerbeer,
the odalisque Dandeline,
Yet I am yourn, and you are mine!

Nor

you

BAYARD TAYLOR.

Signs of the Times.

"Dear Jones"

(I will not do as he
Requests, and I am fervent

In saying so)- "and I remain
Your most obedient servant."

"And pray believe me, sir, I am

Yours with profound respect."

(I like him not at all;

I tolerate him merely;

He bores me when he makes a call)— "And I am yours sincerely."

"Dear Will"

(It certainly would please

Me if, for lack of breath,

He'd go where he would never freeze) — "With love I'm yours till death."

"Dear Ned"

(I hope he'll not again

Ask favours from me) — " and
I have the honour to remain
Yours humbly to command."

Dear Friends

When we're obliged to sign
Our names to letters duly,

Both much and nothing we combine

By saying just —

"Yours truly."

H. C. DODGE.