ining feet--
Moved slowly thro' those fields of light;
"Blest be Ben Hafed's work--thrice blest!"
He said, and gathered to His breast
The harvest sown in toil and tears:
"Henceforth, thro' Mine eternal years,
Thou, faithful servant, cease and rest!"

WINTER BOUND.

If I could live to see beyond the night,
The first spring morning break with fiery thrills,
And tremble into rose and violet light
Along the distant hills!

If I could hear the first wild note that swells
The blue bird's silvery throat when spring is here,
And all the sweet, wind ruffled lily bells
Ring out the joyous matins of the year!

Only to smell the budding lilac blooms
The balmy airs from sprouting brake and wold,
Rich with the strange ineffable perfumes
Of growing grass and newly furrowed mold!

If I could hear the rushing waters call
In the wild exultation of release,
Dear, I might turn my face unto the wall
And fall asleep in peace!

MISLED.

Thro' moss, and bracken, and purple bloom,
With a glitter of gorses here and there,
Shoulder deep in the dewy bloom,
My love, I follow you everywhere!
By faint sweet signs my soul divines,
Dear heart, at dawning you came this way,
By the jangled bells of the columbines,
And the ruffled gold of the gorses gay.

By hill and hollow, by mead and lawn,
Thro' shine and shade of dingle and glade,
Fast and far as I hurry on
My eager seeking you still evade.
But, were you shod with the errant breeze,
Spirit of shadow and fire and dew,
O'er trackless deserts of lands and seas
Still would I follow and find out you.

Like a dazzle of sparks from a glowing brand,
'Mid the tender green of the feathery fern
And nodding sedge, by the light gale fanned,
The Indian pinks in the sunlight burn;
And the wide, cool cups of the corn flower brim
With the sapphire's splendor of heaven's own blue,
In sylvan hollows and dingles dim,
Still sweet with a hint of the morn--and you!

For here is the print of your slender foot,
And the rose that fell from your braided hair,
In the lush deep moss at the bilberry's root--
And the scent of lilacs is in the air!
Do lilacs bloom in the wild green wood?
Do roses drop from the bilberry bough?
Answer me, little Red Riding Hood!
You are hiding there in the bracken, now!

Come out of your covert, my Bonny Belle--
I see the glint of your eyes sweet blue--
Your yellow locks--ah, you know full well
Your scarlet m