to a maid, a song of songs
Born in the singing
Ever, oh! ever to love belongs;
Ringing, ringing, ringing!
Holly berry, a winter theme,
Bursting cherry, a summer's dream,
Love on love's pinions winging.

_Wrinkle_.

~Circe.~

Merry smiles and entrancing eyes,
Words that are light as passing air.
Lips that never disown disguise,
Hearts that endeavor hearts to snare,
Tongues that know not the way to spare,
Babbling on in a thoughtless whirl;
Would-be worshippers, O beware!
These are the ways of the modern girl.

Faces fickle as April skies,
Eyes where Cupid has made his lair;
When they tempt you to idolize,
Then for a broken heart prepare.
What does she care for your despair,
Striving peace from your life to hurl?
Would-be worshippers, O take care!
These are the ways of the modern girl.

Ribbons and laces, smiles and sighs,
A knot of vermilion in her hair,
Glances where veiled deception lies,
A kiss, perchance, on the winding stair,
Exquisite gowns and roses rare,
Shimmer of silver, gloss of pearl--
Where is the heart, O woman, where?
These are the ways of the modern girl.

ENVOY.

Fashion and pique her hours share,
Nature and truth their standards furl,
Fair as fickle, and false as fair,
These are the ways of the modern girl.

_Columbia Spectator_.

~A Wish.~

Cupid laughs, nor seems to care
How his shafts are wont to harrow.
Ah! that I could unaware,
Wound him with his golden arrow.

A.
_Columbia Spectator._

~To Phyllis.~

I said your beauty shamed the rose's blush;
You thought the simile was trite, untrue;
But, oh, I saw each rose for pleasure flush
To hear itself compared, dear heart, to you!

ALBERT PAYSON TERHUNE.
_Columbia Spectator_.

~L'Amour, L'Amour.~

We catch the fleeting perfume of roses
As the evening closes the golden day,
And the rhythmic beating of waves in motion
Comes from the ocean a mile away;
In the west is dying the sunset's splendor,
And twilight tender enfolds the land;
Where the tide is flying a-down the river,
And the grasses quiver, we silent stand.

In your radiant eyes the sun unknowing
Has left his glowing to deeper glow,
And your tender sighs sound far more sweetly
Than the winds that fleetly and blithely blow
And first all shyly your small hand lingers
With trembling fingers within my own,
The blushes slyly and swiftly starting,
And then departing like rose-leaves blown.

Alas, the e