'I must look for an omen to point the way, And I must look for it over my head.' So I found a star that shone in the sky, And mark'd how it glitter'd down on a tree, And felt—but I swear that I know not why— There grow the roses intended for me! And as I approach the shadowy boughs That are spreading out over earth and air, A gay little miracle fate allows, And the star appears to be sparkling there! [pg 20] Gladly I ran o'er the daisy-clad plain, Led by the shimmering light of the star, And under the tree I found—Harry Vane Lying, and smoking a 'mild cigar!' I started astonish'd—he stood upright, And said, in a voice persuasively kind, 'Don't you know that I come here every night, To see your shadow flit by on the blind?' I look'd where he pointed, as if 'twas I