s are adders when hearts are stung_.

If this were our aim, it were all, in sooth,
That any soul needs, to climb to heaven,
And we would not cumber the way of truth
With dreary dogmas, or rites priest given.

_Help whoever_, _whenever you can_,
_Man for ever needs aid from man_.
_Let never a day die in the West_,
_That you have not comforted some sad heart_.

Were this our belief we need not brood
O'er intricate _isms_ and modes of faith--
For this embodies the highest goal
For the life we are living, or after death.

_We meet no trials we do not need_;
_Well borne sorrow is holy seed_;
_It shall rise in a harvest of golden grain_,
_And a wise soul ever thanks God for pain_.

THE BRIDAL EVE

I stand in the blaze of the candle rays,
While my merry maidens three
Arrange each tress, and loop my dress,
And render me fair to see.
But oh! for the eyes that never again
Will smile like the stars on me.

I sweep down the stair, a bride most fair,
And some one takes my hand.
I am numb and cold, but the lie is told,
I smile and my lord is bland.
But oh! for a sight of my rover wild,
Who wanders abroad in the land.

I am queen of the ball and the festal hall;
I have beauty and youth and gold,
Men bow at the shrine of this lord of mine--
Lord of his sums untold.
But oh! to be off in the wilds to-night
With my lover brave and bold.

I dream a dream while the candles gleam,
While the dancers merrily glide.
Neath the evening star I am speeding far,
Oh! a good steed do I ride;
And my heart beats high with hope and cheer,
For my love is at my side.

We ride and sing, and the echoes ring
With our voices blithe and free,
We have no wealth but our love and health,
And our cot on the wide green lea;
But I love my love with a mighty love,
And I know that he loves me.

We ride away in the dying day,
We ride till we reach the spot
Where all alone in the wilds unknown
We find our lonely cot.
And I have no wish in the whole wide world,
And I know that my love has not.

With a dreary moan the viols groan,
And the dancers pause for breath,
And my lord says, 'Dear, you are ill, I fear,
You are paler than your wreath.'
O God! O God! to be out in the night,
Riding with love or death.

GOOD NIGHT

The day is at its golden height,
No shadow falls on sea or land;
And yet to thee I say Good night,
As we stand here hand