AMS COLLEGE _Williams Literary Monthly, The_.
_Williams Weekly, The_.

WISCONSIN, UNIVERSITY OF _Badger, The_.
_Wisconsin Aegis_.

YALE UNIVERSITY _Yale Courant, The_.
_Yale Literary Magazine, The._
_Yale Record, The_.

* * * * *

~Soap-Bubbles.~

As a little child at play
Blows upon a pipe of clay
Bubbles, evanescent, bright,
With their iridescent light,
So I fling upon the wind
Verses of the bubble kind.

And my friend with eyes of blue
Looks my dainty verses through,
Pauses from his books awhile,
With an intellectual smile;
For my fancy seems as naught
To this man of deeper thought.

Still I plead as my excuse:
"Even bubbles have their use.
They are perfect while they live,
And their short career may give,
As they shimmer, and are flown,
Some suggestion for our own.

"Let their beauty, pure and glad,
Make another soul less sad,
And, as upward they are whirled,
Let them show their little world,
Floating clouds and perfect sky,
Warmly mirrored, ere they die."

HERBERT MULLER HOPKINS.
_Columbia Literary Monthly._

I. LOVE AND SENTIMENT

~Love Laughs.~

"Love laughs at locksmiths," laughs ho! ho!
Still Thisbe steals to meet a beau,
Naught recks of bolt and bar and night,
And father's frown and word despite.
As in the days of long ago,
In southern heat and northern snow
Still twangs the archer's potent bow,
And as his flying arrows smite,
Love laughs.

_Trinity Tablet_.

~Where Cupid Dwells.~

Way over the seas, is a far, far land,
Where skies are blue and gold;
Where ripples break on a silver sand,
And sunbeams ne'er grow old;
There's a dale where Cupid dwells, they say,
And 'tis there that he rests from his frolic play.

Oh, there's many a lass and many a swain
That knows of his shafts made there;
For Cupid spares naught of a deep heart-pain.
Though love be all his care.
And I think he should make a reflection or two,
When he rests over there from his play. Don't you?

ROBERT L. MUNGER.
_Yale Courant_.

~To Ruby Lips.~

Two ruby lips are hers; a pair
Of eyes a cynic to ensnare,
A tinted cheek, a perfect nose,
A throat as white as winter's snows,
And o'er her brow bright golden hair.

But, though she's everything that's fair,
My captured fancy's focused w