AN OCTOBER SUNSET.

One moment the slim cloudflakes seem to lean

With their sad sunward faces aureoled,

And longing lips set downward brightening

To take the last sweet hand kiss of the king,

Gone down beyond the closing west acold;

Paying no reverence to the slender queen,

That like a curvèd olive leaf of gold

Hangs low in heaven, rounded toward sun,

Or the small stars that one by one unfold

Down the gray border of the night begun.

[Pg 6]

[Pg 6]

THE FROGS.

I.

Breathers of wisdom won without a quest,

Quaint uncouth dreamers, voices high and strange,

Flutists of lands where beauty hath no change,

And wintery grief is a forgotten guest,

Sweet murmurers of everlasting rest,

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