Pale Luna's light, the dimpling sea,
Are very taking, I'll agree;
But to her smile all else is poor--
Her winsome smile.
The preacher, in a mournful key,
Shoves on the Year of Jubilee,
Shows present times without a cure,
With pessimistic portraiture--
His back is turned, he cannot see
Her winsome smile.
HARRY KEISER MUNROE.
_Wesleyan Argus._
~The Summer Girl.~
I wooed her in the summer months,
When all the world was gay,
And on the hillside, in the sun,
The yellow harvest lay,
And late, across the level lawns,
The twilight met the day.
Together, in the garden walks,
At early morn we went;
Together, in the deep green groves,
The drowsy noontide spent;
And in the evening watched how well
The sunset glories blent.
Oh, happy morn! The trysting oak
Hung o'er the orchard gate.
I waited for her in the shade---
I had quite long to wait,
For with the coachman she eloped
And left me to my fate.
_Yale Record._
~Phyllis's Slippers.~
Before the firelight's genial glow
She sits, and dreams of waltzes sweet,
Nor heeds the curious gleams that show
Grandmamma's slippers on her feet.
Ah, happy slippers, thus to hold
So rare a burden! It were meet
That you should be of beaten gold
To clasp so close such dainty feet.
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