se, now fell,
Thy charms what raptures would compel!
Thy feet were winged, thy figure slight,
Thy winning tread, entrancing, light,--
What bliss to me that night befell,
To waltz with thee!

GEORGE B. ZUG.
_Amherst Literary Monthly._

~To Maude's Guitar.~

Sweet guitar, so old thou art
Thou seemest strange to modern eyes,
Yet in thy broad-backed cavern-heart
The softest music hidden lies.

Whene'er thy strings with gentle hand
I lightly sweep in deep-bassed chords,
There comes a breath of foreign lands
That seems to sing soft Spanish words.

Was Caballero's passion deep
E'er sung to thy rich-chorded bass?
Didst ever break senora's sleep
By music 'neath her window-case?

Somewhere--sometime, a song was sung
By lover bold or maiden fair,
So sweet, thou hid'st it deep among
Thy soulful strings, and kept it there.

Whoe'er it was, that distant day,
That loved to strike thy mellow strings,
Whoever sang that sweet love-lay,
Its echo still within thee rings.

Though Maude may vow she loves me not,
And jolly glees may lightly play,
I look beyond the surface thought,
And hear that echoing old love-lay.

L. C. STONE.
_Amherst Literary Monthly_.

[Illustration: A BROWN GIRL.]

~Tantalizing.~

Her rosy cheeks are pressed to mine,
Her gleaming hair lies on my shoulder,
Her arms are clasped about my neck,
And yet my arms do not enfold her.

Her throbbing heart beats loud and fast,
Her wistful eyes are gently pleading.
Her blushing lips are pursed to kiss,
And yet my lips are all unheeding.

I coldly loose her clinging arms,
And roughly from my side I shove her.
It's amateur theatricals,
And I must play the tyrant lover.

HENRY MORGAN STONE.
_Brunonian_

~Phantasy.~

Her beaming eyes of deepest blue
Enthralled all who to Yale were true.
Her crimson lips, too, conquests made:
Fair Harvard's sons their homage paid,
And many a suitor came to woo
Petite Elaine.

I begged a kiss awhile ago;
The crimson lips, 'tis true, said "No,"
But in her eyes turned up to me
I read the answer differently--
The crimson never had a show,
Yale won again.

_Yale Record._

~Rosebuds.~

She plucked a rosebud by the wall
And placed it in his outstretched hands;
It was love's token, that was all,
And he rode off to foreign lands.

He kept the rosebud in his breast,
And when the battle charge was led,
They found him slain among the r