KERR.
_Kalends_.
~Inconstancy.~
I sighed as the soul of April fled,
And a tear on my cheek
Told of the love I had borne the dead--
And I signed the cross, and bowed my head--
And was sad for a week.
With a carol and catch the May came in
With her wonderful way--
And I saucily chucked her under the chin,
And tuned me the strings of my violin--
And was glad for a day.
FRANCIS CHARLES MCDONALD.
_Nassau Literary Monthly._
~Yesterday.~
Thou art to me like all the days--
They ebb and flow with punctual tides,
Leave driftwood--wreckage on the sands,
Perhaps a shell besides;
Swift, incommunicable, vast,
They poise--then perish in the past.
And yet I have not all forgot
Those years when every day seemed long,
A separate age of joys and play,
Of wonder-tales and song;
I marvel, Yesterday, to know
Thou still art childhood's Long Ago!
FREDERIC LAWRENCE KNOWLES.
_Harvard Advocate._
~The Last Word.~
Life is a boat that is drifting,
Riding high, rocking low,
While the tide turns.
Love is the sands that are shifting
In and out, to and fro,
While the tide turns,
Let the boat drift, no oar to lift,
Clear sky above, calm sea below,
Till the tide turns.
Dream on the shore, wander it o'er;
Gold gleam the sands 'neath the sun's glow.
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