A ragged cap was on his head : But-hidden thus-there was no doubting That, all with crispy locks o'erspread, His gnarled horns were somewhere sprouting: His club-feet, cased in rusty shoes, Were cross'd, as on some frieze you see them, And trousers, patch'd of divers hues, Conceal'd his crooked shanks beneath them. He fill'd the quivering reeds with sound, The nymphs and herdsmen ran to hear him, The bulls and bears together drew From Jauncey Court and New Street Alley, As erst, if pastorals be true, Came beasts from every wooded valley; A one-eyed Cyclops halted long A blowsy, apple-vending slattern; From some new-fangled lunch-house handy, And bade the piper, with a shout, To strike up Yankee Doodle Dandy! A newsboy and a pea-nut girl Like little Fauns began to caper: His hair was all in tangled curl, Her tawny legs were bare and taper. And still the gathering larger grew, O heart of Nature, beating still With throbs her vernal passion taught her,Even here, as on the vine-clad hill, Or by the Arethusan water! New forms may fold the speech, new lands So thought I;-but among us trod "Great Pan is dead!"-and all the people Went on their ways:-and clear and high The quarter sounded from the steeple. TOUJOURS AMOUR. PRITHEE tell me, Dimple-Chin! When didst learn a heart to win? "Oh!" the rosy lips reply, Tell, O tell me, Grizzled-Face! "Ah!" the wise old lips reply,— "Youth may pass and strength may die; But of Love I can't foretoken: Ask some older sage than I!" THE DOORSTEP. THE Conference-meeting through at last, Not braver he that leaps the wall But no! she blush'd and took my arm: I can't remember what we said, 'Twas nothing worth a song or story; Yet that rude path by which we sped Seem'd all transform'd and in a glory. The snow was crisp beneath our feet, The moon was full, the fields were gleaming; By hood and tippet shelter'd sweet, Her face with youth and health was beaming. The little hand outside her muff, O sculptor! if you could but mould it!— So lightly touch'd my jacket-cuff, To keep it warm I had to hold it. To have her with me there alone,— The old folks, too, were almost home: Yet on the doorstep still we linger❜d. She shook her ringlets from her hood, And with a "Thank you, Ned!" dissembled, But yet I knew she understood With what a daring wish I trembled. A cloud pass'd kindly overhead, The moon was slyly peeping through it, Yet hid its face, as if it said, 66 Come, now or never! do it! do it!" My lips till then had only known The kiss of mother and of sister, But somehow, full upon her own Sweet rosy darling mouth-I kiss'd her! Perhaps 'twas boyish love, yet still, To feel once more that fresh, wild thrill, HELEN FISKE JACKSON.* Born at Amherst, Mass: 1833-5. CORONATION. Ar the king's gate the subtle noon Through the king's gate, unquestion'd then, Fare better, being kings!" The king sate bow'd beneath his crown, "Poor man! what wouldst thou have of me?" The beggar turn'd, and, pitying, Replied, like one in a dream-" Of thee "Nothing: I want the king!" Uprose the king, and from his head Shook off the crown, and threw it by : "O man! thou must have known "-he said"A greater king than I!" Through all the gates, unquestion'd then, The beggar laugh'd. Free winds in haste * See Note 25. |