[37]

Of passion's ill-resisted powers,

Seeks but for earthly flowers.

With faith's pure lilies wreathe your soul,

Shall work thee mortal dole.

GIRLS RUNNING.

GIRLS RUNNING.

As

Rarely they pause to pant, still less to think;

They have not shuddered o'er the ghastly brink.

The gay young laughter rippling down the wind;

Or hint that fortune could be less than kind!

Too glib their ankles for the serpent's bite,

Of dimness and perplexity and night.

[38]

But not for aye need sin and grief o'ercast;

To His own fold ingather them at last.

THE SIREN.

THE SIREN.

A Siren

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