are not half so fair!
Oh, if this be the golden land of dreams,
Let us forever make our dwelling here.
Not lovelier in my earliest visions seemed
The paradise of our first parents, filled
With countless angels whose celestial light
Thrilled the sweet foliage like a gush of song.
Look how the long and level landscape gleams,
And with a gradual pace goes mellowing up
Into the blue. The very ground we tread
Seems flooded with the tender hue of heaven;
An azure lawn is all about our feet,
And sprinkled with a thousand gleaming flowers,
Like lovely lilies on a tranquil lake.

_Gia._ Nay, dear Rosalia, cast thy angel ken
Far down the shining pathway we have trod,
And see behind us those enormous gates
To which the world has given the name of Death;
And note the least among yon knot of lights,
And recognize your native orb, the earth!
For we are spirits threading fields of space,
Whose gleaming flowers are but the countless stars!
But now, dear love, adieu--a flash from heaven--
A sudden glory in the silent air--
A rustle as of wings, proclaim the approach
Of holier guides to take thee into keep.
Behold them gliding down the azure hill
Making the blue ambrosial with their light.
Our paths are here divided. I must go
Through other ways, by other forms attended.

LINES TO AN IDEAL.

BY ELIZABETH LYON LINSLEY.

I wandered on the lonely strand,
A setting sun shone brightly there,
And bathed in glory sea and land,
And streamed in beauty through the air!

A playful breeze the waters curled,
Touched their light waves and passed them by,
Then fanned a bird whose wings unfurled
Were waving on the sunset sky!

The bird had gone. The sun had set.
His beams still tipped the hills and trees,
And flung a rainbow radiance yet
On clouds reflected in the seas!

A distant boatman plied the oar,
All sparkling with its golden spray,
His voice came softened to the shore,
Then melted with the dying day!

And when the last bright lines on high
Departed as the twilight came,
A large star showed its lone, sweet eye
All margined with a cloud of flame!

The winds were hushed. Their latest breath
In soft, low murmurs died afar--
The rippling of the wave beneath
Showed dancing there that one bright star!

So fair a scene, so sweet an hour,
Were felt and passed. In stilly calm
They shed around me beauty's power,
Yet gave no peace, and brought no balm.

I was alone! I saw no eyes
Wit