For the light of stars.

Let me but dream,—

For there are no stars,—

Dream that the ache

And the wild heart-break

Are but things that seem.

Ah! let me dream

For there are no stars.

[Pg 24]

Revulsion.

I see the starting buds, I catch the gleam

In the near distance of a sun-kissed pool,

The blessed April air blows soft and cool,

Small wonder if all sorrow grows a dream,

And we forget that close around us lie

A city's poor, a city's misery.

Of every outward vision there is some

Internal counterpart. To-day I know

The blessedness of living, and the glow

Of life's dear spring-tide. I can bid thee come

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