ove whispered;
"You sought to hold me with a chain;
I fly to prove such holding vain.

"You bound me burdens, and I bore
The burdens hard, the burdens sore;
I bore them all unmurmuring,
For Love can bear a harder thing.

"You taxed me often, teased me, wept;
I only smiled, and still I kept
Through storm and sun and night and day,
My joyous, viewless, faithful way.

"But, dear, once dearest, you and I
This day have parted company.
Love must be free to give, defer,
Himself alone his almoner.

"As free I freely poured my all,
Enslaved I spurn, renounce my thrall,
Its wages and its bitter bread."
Thus whispered Love the day he fled!

OVERSHADOWED.

"Insomuch that they brought forth the sick into the streets, and
laid them on beds and couches, that at the least the shadow of
Peter, passing by, might overshadow some of them."

Mid the thronged bustle of the city street,
In the hot hush of noon,
I wait, with folded hands and nerveless feet.
Surely He will come soon.
Surely the Healer will not pass me by,
But listen to my cry.

Long are the hours in which I lie and wait,
Heavy the load I bear;
But He will come ere evening. Soon or late
I shall behold Him there;
Shall hear His dear voice, all the clangor through;
"What wilt thou that I do?"

"If Thou but wilt, Lord, Thou canst make me clean."
Thus shall I answer swift.
And He will touch me, as He walks serene;
And I shall rise and lift
This couch, so long my prison-house of pain,
And be made whole again.

He lingers yet. But lo! a hush, a hum.
The multitudes press on
After some leader. Surely He is come!
He nears me; He is gone!
Only His shadow reached me, as He went;
Yet here I rest content.

In that dear shadow, like some healing spell,
A heavenly patience lay;
Its balm of peace enwrapped me as it fell;
My pains all fled away,--
The weariness, the deep unrest of soul;
I am indeed "made whole."

It is enough, Lord, though Thy face divine
Was turned to other men.
Although no touch, no questioning voice was mine,
Thou wilt come once again;
And, if Thy shadow brings such bliss to me,
What must Thy presence be?

TIME TO GO.

They know the time to go!
The fairy clocks strike their inaudible hour
In field and woodland, and each punctual flower
Bows at the signal an obedient head
And