ows took
Aileen's dancing eyes and waving hand!

That is how it happened on a creeping train,
How a play began without a word,--
Peekaboo reflections in a window-pane,
Such a story-hour was never heard.

Aileen and her brother, strangers were to me;
They were friendly for the cloth I wore;
And through leagues of window, youthful play could see
We were friends to be for evermore.

So we passed the hamlets, passed the miles of night
In a fairyland of silent games,
Till the travel ended in the Worcester light,--
Yet we parted, strangers in our names.

But a fortnight later, by an autumn tree,
Aileen and her brother came my way,
And another, glad to tell the names of them and me,
And to hear how travellers can play.

Life is but a journey, say we evermore,
Passing lights the years have, like a train;
Three good friends will travel up to heaven's door,
With the world a merry window-pane.

THE COLUMBINE

Gray lonely rocks about thee stand,
Ignored of sun and dew,
Yet is thy breath upon the land,
To thy vocation true.

So come they character to me
That works in sunless ways,
And I shall learn to give with thee
Dark hills a constant praise.

TWO SEANICHIES

(For Aedh)

'Tis the queerest trade we have, the two of us that go about,
I that do the talkin', and the little lad that sings,
We to tell the story of a Land you ought to know about,--
The wonder land of Erin and the memories it brings.

Sure it is a wonder land, richer than the books it is,
Full of magic stories and a hopeful heart of song;
Faith, and near the mountains and the sunny lakes and brooks it is,
Like the olden seanichies, the pair of us belong.

Far and broad our journeyin', up and down the land we go,
Today among the mountains and tomorrow by the sea;
Pleasant are the roads with us, and to a welcome grand we go,
Erin wins the heart of you, whoever you may be.

Erin's heart will capture you, if you will but listen now,
Great she was afore the Danes and all her Saxon foes,
After that the sorrows came, sure your eyes will glisten now,
Up, my lad, and sing for them "The Dark Little Rose."

Rest awhile and I will tell the fame of Tara's Hall to them,
All the deeds of valor and a thousand scenes of joy,
Wicklow hills and Derry