in the perfume.

If the dews on the leaf
Are the tears from her eyes;
If she withers and dies,
Why, you have the belief,

That a rose cannot speak,
Though the heart of a maid
In its bosom must fade,
And with fading must break.

FOR EVER

He heard it first upon the lips of love,
And loved it for love's sake;
A faithful word, that knows nor time nor change,
Nor lone heart-break.

It sung across his heart-strings like a breath
Of Heaven's faithfulness, that whispered "Never
To part, to lose, to linger from your gaze."
She said, "I love for ever."

He heard it then upon the lips of death,
Of things that fade and die;
A word of sorrow never to be stilled,
An ever echoing sigh.

And loneliness within his soul did dwell,
And struck upon his heart-strings, crying "Never
To meet, to have, to hold, to see again."
She said, "Good-bye for ever."

THE BLOW RETURNED

I struck you once, I do remember well.
Hard on the track of passion sorrow sped,
And swift repentance, weeping for the blow;
I struck you once--and now you're lying dead!

Now you are gone the blow no longer sleeps
In your forgiveness hushed through all the years;
But like a phantom haunts me through the dark,
To cry "You gave your own beloved tears."

Stript now of all excuses, stern and stark,
With all your small transgressings dimmed or fled,
The ghost returns the blow upon my heart
I struck you once--and now you're lying dead.

VALE

Good-bye, sweet friend, good-bye,
And all the world must be
Between my friend and me;
And nothing is, dear heart,
But hands that meet to part;
Good-bye, sweet friend, good-bye.

Good-bye, sweet love, good-bye,
And one long grave must be
Between my love and me;
What comfort there, dear heart,
For hands that meet to part?
Good-bye, sweet love, good-bye.

THE SKELETON IN THE CUPBOARD

Just this one day in all the year
Let all be one, let all be dear;
Wife, husband, child in fond embrace,
And thrust the phantom from its place.
No bitter words, no frowning brow,
Disturb the Christmas festal, now
The skeleton's behind the door.

Nor let the child, with looks askance,
Find out its sad inheritance
From souls that held no happiness,
Of home, wher