Now in the hearth-light-or the trees Stirs something they and I have heard: Ah, is it not the summer breeze,

Come back to us with sun and bird?

Poor summers, born again to die!
Quickly as they have come, they go.
See, where the ashes smouldering lie,

The orchard floor is white with snow.

SUMMER DIED LAST NIGHT

BY MAUDE CALDWELL PERRY

SUMMER died last night,
Lady of Delight,—
Summer died last night;
Look for her no more.

In the early gray

Of this golden day,

In the early gray

By the mirrored shore

I saw leaves of red,
So I knew her dead,
I saw leaves of red

Wreathed upon her door.

UNAWARES

BY ALICE WILLIAMS BROTHERTON

A SONG welled up in the singer's heart (Like a song in the throat of a bird,) And loud he sang, and far it rang

For his heart was strangely stirred; And he sang for the very joy of song, With no thoughts of one who heard.

Within the listener's wayward soul
A heavenly patience grew.
He fared on his way with a benison
On the singer, who never knew
How the careless song of an idle hour
Had shaped a life anew.

SAINT R. L. S.

BY SARAH N. CLEGHORN

SULTRY and brazen was the August day

When Sister Stanislaus came down to see
The little boy with the tuberculous knee.

And as she thought to find him, so he lay:
Still staring, through the dizzy waves of heat,
At the tall tenement across the street.

But did he see that dreary picture? Nay,

In his mind's eye a sunlit harbor showed,
Where a tall pirate ship at anchor rode.

Yes, he was full ten thousand miles away.

(The Sister, when she turned his pillow over,

Kissed "Treasure Island" on its well-worn cover.)