menny thowsunds is ure fawthernlaw.

[Footnote 6: By permission of Life Publishing Company.]

THE LOVE SONNETS OF A HUSBAND

BY MAURICE SMILEY

I LOVE YOU STILL

You ask me if I love you still, tho' you
And I were wed scarce one short happy year
Agone. How well do I remember, dear,
The day you put your hand in mine, and through
Life's good and ill, tho' skies were gray or blue,
We plighted faith that should not know a fear.
That was the day I kissed away the tear
That trembled on your cheek like morning dew.
Of course I love you--still. You're at your best,
Your perihelion, when you're silentest.
I'd love you as I did, dear heart, of yore,
And still a little more, nor ever tire:
Why, I would love you like a house afire
If you were only still a little more.

SOUL TO SOUL

I think I loved you first when in your eyes
I saw the glad, rapt answer to the spell
Of Paderewski, when we heard him tell
Life's gentler meaning, Love's sweet sacrifice.
The master caught the rhythm of your sighs
And then, inspired, the story rose and fell
And sang of moonlight in a leafy dell,
Of souls' Arcadias and dreaming skies,
Of hearts and hopes and purposes that blend.
Your bosom heaved beneath the witcheries
That seemed to set a halo on his brow,
And then the message sobbed on to its end.
"That's fine," you murmured, chewing faster; "please
Ask him if he won't play 'Bedelia' now."

YOU SAID THAT YOU WOULD DIE FOR ME

You said that you would die for me, if e'er
That price would buy me happiness. I dreamed
Not of devotion like to that, that seemed
To joy in sacrifice; that, tenderer
Than selfish Life's small immolations were,
Made Love an altar whereupon it deemed
It naught to offer all; a shrine that gleamed
With utter loyalty's red drops. I ne'er
Believed that you were just quite in your head
In saying death would prove Fidelity.
But when I saw the packages of white and red
Your druggist showed me--he's my chum, you see--
I knew you meant, dear heart, just what you said,
When you declared that you would dye for me.

I CAN NOT BEAR YOUR SIGHS

Your smiles, dear one, have all the glad surprise
The sunshine hath for roses; what the day
Brings to the waiting lark. When you are gay