THE RIDDLE OF THE SPHINX.

From age to age the haggard human train

Creeps wearily across Time's burning sands

To look into her face, and lift weak hands

In supplication to the calm disdain

That crowns her stony brow.... But all in vain

The riddle of mortality they try:

Doom speaks still from her unrelenting eye—

Doom deep as passion, infinite as pain.

From age to age the voice of Love is heard

Pleading above the tumult of the throng,

But evermore the inexorable word

Comes like the tragic burden of a song.

"The answer is the same," the stern voice saith:

"Death yesterday, today and still tomorrow—Death!"

[50]

[50]

THE MOTHERS.

Beyond the tumult and the proud acclaim,

Beyond the circle where the glory beats

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