THE SECRET.
The throng about her did not know, Her nearest friend could not surmise Whence came the brightness and the glow, The wondrous radiance of her eyes.
One said, half enviously: "Your face Is beautiful with gladness rare, With that warm, generous heart of yours Some precious secret you must share."
Ah, true beneath the filmy lace That rose and fell upon her breast, Her first love-taken held its place— From him, from him whom she loved best!
VASHTI.
"O last days of the year!" she whispered low, "You fly too swiftly past. Ah, you might stay A while, a little while. Do you not know What tender things you bear with you away?