CLOSED.

Within her soul there is a sacred place,

Forever set apart to holy thought;

There once a miracle divine was wrought,

And common things grew fair with heavenly grace.

Think not to know the secret of that room;—

Closed is the door, even to herself; no more

She lingers there, though well our hearts are sure

It is no spot of shadowy, haunted gloom.

The violets that blossom there unseen

Were never gathered, and so never fade;

Breathing serenely through the gentle shade

Their memories of all that once had been.

When in the thoughtful twilight we, her friends,

Walk with her, and in spirit dimly feel

A strange, rare fragrance o’er the senses steal,

Let us speak softly of a Past that sends

Through the closed crevice of its silent door,

No bitterness in those remembered hours;

But in the delicate breath of such fair flowers

Only the sweetness of the days of yore.

BABY-HOOD.
M. W. R.

Dear bird of mine, with strong and untried wing,

Ignorant yet of restless fluttering,

How long will you be so content to sing

For me alone? when will the world be stirred

By notes that even I have scarcely heard,

Since you are still only a mocking-bird?

My little Clytie with the constant eyes

Turned to me ever, though the true sunrise

Burns far above me in God’s holy skies,—

How can you know, my sweet unconscious one,

In the bright days for you but just begun,

That I am worthy to be held your sun?

My little loyal worshipper, the bloom

Of whose fair face makes bright the midnight gloom,

Turned ever steadily to my near room,

Knowing so well, with instinct fine and true,

The one glad door through which I come to you,

Caring for naught but what that hides from view,—

How long, dear one, how many precious years,

Will this fair chamber where I hush your tears

Be the one Mecca for your hopes and fears?

Not long, alas! not long; the mother heart

Knows well how quickly she will have to part

With all this wonder;—she who tries each art

To lure him on; the first to coax and praise

Each added grace; then first in sore amaze

To mourn that he has lost his baby ways!