DO YOU blame hER?

DO YOU BLAME HER?

NE'ER lover spake in tenderer words,
While mine were calm, unbroken;
Though I suffered all the pain I gave
In the No, so firmly spoken.

I marvel what he would think of me,
Who called it a cruel sentence,
If he knew I had almost learned to-day
What it is to feel repentance.

For it seems like a strange perversity,
And blind beyond excusing,

To lose the thing we could have kept,
And after, mourn the losing.

And this, the prize I might have won,
Was worth a queen's obtaining;

And one, if far beyond my reach,

I had sighed, perchance, for gaining.

And I know ah! no one knows so well,
Though my heart is far from breaking-
'Twas a loving heart, and an honest hand,
I might have had for the taking.

And yet, though never one beside
Has place in my thought above him,

I only like him when he is by,
'Tis when he is gone I love him.

Sadly of absence poets sing,
And timid lovers fear it ;

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But an idol has been worshipped less
Sometimes when we came too near it.

And for him my fancy throws to-day
A thousand graces o'er him;

For he seems a god when he stands afar,
And I kneel in my thought before him.

But if he were here, and knelt to me
With a lover's fond persistence,
Would the halo brighten to my eyes

That crowns him now in the distance?

Could I change the words I have said, and say,
Till one of us two shall perish,

Forsaking others, I take this man
Alone, to love and to cherish?

Alas! whatever beside to-day

I might dream like a fond romancer,
I know my heart so well that I know
I should give him the self-same answer.

SONG.

LAUGH out, O stream, from your bed of green,
Where you lie in the sun's embrace;
And talk to the reeds that o'er you lean

To touch your dimpled face;

But let your talk be sweet as it will,

And your laughter be as gay,

SOMEBODY'S LOVERS.

You cannot laugh as I laugh in my heart,
For my lover will come to-day!

Sing sweet, little bird, sing out to your mate
That hides in the leafy grove ;

Sing clear and tell him for him you wait,
And tell him of all your love;

But though you sing till you shake the buds
And the tender leaves of May,

My spirit thrills with a sweeter song,
For my lover must come to-day!

Come up, O winds, come up from the south
With eager hurrying feet,

And kiss your red rose on her mouth

In the bower where she blushes sweet;
But you cannot kiss your darling flower,
Though you clasp her as you may,
As I kiss in my thought the lover dear
I shall hold in my arms to-day!

SOMEBODY'S LOVERS.

Too meek by half was he who came
A-wooing me one morn,

For he thought so little of himself
I learned to share his scorn.

At night I had a suitor, vain
As the vainest in the land;
Almost he seemed to condescend
In the offer of his hand.

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In one who pressed his suit I missed
Courage and manly pride;

And how could I think of such a one
As a leader and a guide?

And then there came a worshipper
With such undoubting trust,

That when he knelt he seemed not worth
Upraising from the dust.

The next was never in the wrong,

Was not too smooth nor rough; So faultless and so good was he, That that was fault enough.

But one, the last of all who came,
I know not how to paint;
No angel do I seem to him
He scarcely calls me saint!

He hath such sins and weaknesses
As mortal man befall;

He hath a thousand faults, and yet
I love him with them all!

He never asked me yea nor nay,
Nor knelt to me one hour;

But he took my heart, and holds my heart
With a lover's tender power.

And I bow, as needs I must, and say,

In proud humility,

Love's might is right, and I yield at last To manhood's royalty!

LAST POEMS.

NOBODY'S CHILD.

ONLY a newsboy, under the light

Of the lamp-post plying his trade in vain : Men are too busy to stop to-night,

Hurrying home through the sleet and rain. Never since dark a paper sold;

Where shall he sleep, or how be fed? He thinks as he shivers there in the cold, While happy children are safe abed.

Is it strange if he turns about

With angry words, then comes to blows, When his little neighbor, just sold out,

Tossing his pennies, past him goes?

"Stop!" some one looks at him, sweet and mild, And the voice that speaks is a tender one : "You should not strike such a little child,

And

you should not use such words, my son!"

Is it his anger or his fears

That have hushed his voice and stopped his arm? "Don't tremble," these are the words he hears;

"Do you think that I would do you harm?