And eye to eye for a moment there
They held each other as if by a spell.

All in a moment passing there—
And into her idle, empty day,
All in that moment something new
Suddenly seem'd to find its way.

And through and through the clamorous hours
That made his clamorous busy day,

A girl's laugh, idle and foolish and sweet,
Into every bargain found its way.

And through and through the crowd of the streets,
At every window in passing by,

He look'd a moment, and seem'd to see
A pair of eyes like the morning sky.

ROBERT KELLY WEEKS.

Born 1840

AD FINEM.

I WOULD not have believed it then,
If any one had told me so-
Ere you shall see his face again
A year and more shall go.

And let them come again to-day

To pity me and prophesy,
And I will face them all, and say
To all of them-You lie!

False prophets all! you lie, you lie !
I will believe no word but his ;
Will say December is July,
That Autumn April is,

Rather than say he has forgot,

Or will not come who bade me wait,

Who wait him and accuse him not
Of being very late.

He said that he would come in Spring,
And I believed-believe him now,
Though all the birds have ceased to sing
And bare is every bough;

For Spring is not till he appear,
Winter is not when he is nigh—

The only Lord of all my year,
For whom I live-and die!

A PAUSE.

To have the imploring hands of her Clasp'd on his shoulder, and his cheek Brush'd over slowly by the stir

Of thrilling hair, and not to speak;

To see within the unlifted eyes

More than the fallen fringes prove Enough to hide, to see the rise

Of tear-drops in them, and not move ;

Would this be strange? And yet at last,
What weary man may not do this,
Seeing when the long pursuit is past,
To only cease how sweet it is?

To only cease and be as one

Who, when the fever leaves him, lies
Careless of what is come or gone,
Which yet he cannot realize;

For all his little thought is spent
In wondering what it was that gave
To be so quiet and content,

While yet he is not in the grave.

WILL CARLETON.

Born at Hudson, Michigan, 1845

BETSY AND I ARE OUT.

DRAW UP the papers, lawyer! and make 'em good and stout, For things at home are cross-ways, and Betsy and I are out,

We who have work'd together so long as man and wife

Must pull in single harness the rest of our natʼral life.

66

What is the matter?" says you. Iswan! it's hard to tell?
Most of the years behind us we've pass'd by very well;
I have no other woman-she has no other man;
Only we've lived together as long as ever we can.

So I have talk'd with Betsy, and Betsy has talk'd with me;
And we've agreed together that we can never agree;
Not that we've catch'd each other in any terrible crime ;
We've been a gatherin' this for years, a little at a time.

There was a stock of temper we both had, for a start;
Although we ne'er suspected 'twould take us two apart;
I had my various failings, bred in the flesh and bone,
And Betsy, like all good women, had a temper of her own.

The first thing, I remember, whereon we disagreed,
Was somethin' concerning heaven- -a difference in our creed;
We arg'ed the thing at breakfast-we arg'ed the thing at
tea-

And the more we arg'ed the question, the more we couldn't

agree.

And the next that I remember was when we lost a cow; She had kick'd the bucket, for certain-the question was only-How?

I held my opinion, and Betsy another had;

And when we were done a talkin', we both of us was mad.

And the next that I remember, it started in a joke;
But for full a week it lasted and neither of us spoke.
And the next was when I fretted because she broke a bowl;
And she said I was mean and stingy, and hadn't any soul.

And so the thing kept workin', and all the self-same way; Always somethin' to ar'ge and something sharp to say,And down on us came the neighbours, a couple o' dozen strong,

And lent their kindest sarvice to help the thing along.

And there have been days together-and many a weary

week

When both of us were cross and spunky, and both too proud to speak;

And I have been thinkin' and thinkin', the whole of the summer and fall,

If I can't live kind with a woman, why, then I won't at all.

And so I've talk'd with Betsy, and Betsy has talk'd with me;

And we have agreed together that we can never agree; And what is hers shall be hers, and what is mine shall be mine;

And I'll put it in the agreement and take it to her to sign.
Write on the paper, lawyer!-the very first paragraph-
Of all the farm and live stock, she shall have her half;
For she has help'd to earn it, through many a weary day,
And it's nothin' more than justice that Betsy has her

pay.

Give her the house and homestead: a man can thrive and

roam,

But women are wretched critters unless they have a home. And I have always determined, and never fail'd to say, That Betsy never should want a home, if I was taken away.

There's a little hard money besides, that's drawin' tol'rable

pay,

A couple of hundred dollars laid by for a rainy day,—
Safe in the hands of good men, and easy to get at;
Put in another clause there, and give her all of that.

I see that you are smiling, sir! at my givin' her so much;
Yes, divorce is cheap, sir! but I take no stock in such ;
True and fair I married her, when she was blithe and young,
And Betsy was always good to me, exceptin' with her
tongue.

When I was young as you, sir! and not so smart, perhaps,
For me she mitten'd a lawyer, and several other chaps;
And all of 'em was fluster'd, and fairly taken down,
And for a time I was counted the luckiest man in town.

Once, when I had a fever-I won't forget it soon-
I was hot as a basted turkey and crazy as a loon-
Never an hour went by me when she was out of sight;
She nursed me true and tender, and stuck to me day and
night.

And if ever a house was tidy, and ever a kitchen clean,
Her house and kitchen was tidy as any I ever seen,
And I don't complain of Betsy or any of her acts,
Exceptin' when we've quarrel'd, and told each other facts.
So draw up the paper, lawyer! and I'll go home to-night,
And read the agreement to her and see if it's all right;
And then in the mornin' I'll sell to a tradin' man I know-
And kiss the child that was left to us, and out in the world

I'll go.

And one thing put in the paper, that first to me didn't.

occur;

That when I am dead at last she will bring me back to her,
And lay me under the maple we planted years ago,
When she and I was happy, before we quarrel'd so.

And when she dies, I wish that she would be laid by me;
And lyin' together in silence, perhaps we'll then agree;
And if ever we meet in heaven, I wouldn't think it queer
If we loved each other the better because we've quarrel'd
here.

HOW BETSY AND I MADE UP.

GIVE us your hand, Mr. Lawyer! how do you do to-day?
You drew up that paper-I s'pose you want your pay,
Don't cut down your figures; make it an X or a V;
For that 'ere written agreement was just the makin' of me.

Goin' home that evenin' I tell you I was blue,

Thinkin' of all my troubles, and what I was goin' to do;