h of fruit and blossom;
Mingle like two kissing raindrops--
Twain in one. Thrice happy maiden!
Life to thee is like the morning,
As the fresh-faced balmy morning,
Full of melody and music;
Full of soft delicious fragrance;
Full of Love, as dew-soaked jasmins
Are of sweet and spicy odour;
Full of Love, as leaping streamlets
Are of life. Thrice happy maiden!

II.

Turn we to a lowly dwelling--
One amongst a million dwellings--
Where a mother silent rocketh
To-and-fro with down-let eyelids,
Gazing on her sleeping infant,
While the just-expiring embers
Smoulder through the gloomy darkness.
On the shelf a rushlight flickers
With a dull and sickly glimmer,
Turning night to ghostly, deathly,
Pallid wretchedness and sadness,
Just revealing the dim outline
Of a pale and tearful mother,
With a babe upon her bosom.
"Thus am I," she muttered, wailing,
"Left to linger lorn and lonely
In the morning of my being.
If 'twere not for thee, my sweet babe,
Lily of my life's dark waters--
Silver link that holds my sad heart
To the earth--I fain would lay me
Down, and sleep death's calm and sweet sleep.
Oh! how sweetly calm it must be.
In the green and silent graveyard,
With the moonlight and the daisies!
If 'twere not for thee, my loved one,
I could lay me down and kiss Death
With the gladness I now kiss thee.
Oh! how cold thy tiny lips are!
Like a Spring-time blossom frozen.
Nestle, dear one, in my bosom!"
And the mother presst the sleeper
Closer--closer, to her white breast:
Forward, backward--gently rocking;
While the rushlight flickered ghastly.
Hark! a footstep nears the dwelling;
And the door is flung wide open,
Banging backward 'gainst the table;
And a human being enters,
Flusht with liquor, drencht with water!
For the rain came down in torrents,
And the wind blew cold and gusty.
"Well, Blanche!" spake the thoughtless husband,
Not unkindly. "Weeping always."
"Yes, Charles, I could ne'er have slumbered
Had I gone to bed," she answered.
Then she rose to shut the night out,
But the stubborn wind resisted,
And, for spite, dasht through the crevice
Of the window. "Foolish girl, then,
Thus to wait for me!" he muttered.
When a shriek--so wild, so piercing--
Weirdly wild--intensely piercing--
Struck him like a sharp stiletto.
Then another--and another!
Purgin