"I'm thinking, sitting in the soft gloom here, Of all the riches that were mine the day There crept down on the world the soft New Year, A rosy thing with promise filled, and gay.
"But twelve short months ago! a little space In which to lose so much—a whole life's wealth Of love and faith, youth and youth's tender grace— Things that are wont to go from us by stealth.
"Laughter and blushes, and the rapture strong, The clasp of clinging hands, the ling'ring kiss, The joy of living, and the glorious song That drew its sweetness from a full heart's bliss.
"O wealth of tenderness! O gladness great! That crowned me, covered me a year ago! A bankrupt, I—gone faith, gone warm caress Gone love, gone youth, gone all!" She whispered low.
"Oh, last days of the year, you take away The riches that I held so close and dear. Go not so swiftly, stay a little, stay With one poor bankrupt, Last days of the year."
THE TREASURE BOX.
I asked Aunt Persis yester-eve, as twilight fell, If she had things of value hidden safe away— Treasures that were her very own? And did she love To bring them forth, and feast her eyes upon their worth, And finger them with all a miser's greed of touch?
She smiled that slow, warm smile of hers, and drew me down Beside her in the inglenook. The rain beat hard Against the panes, without the world was doubly gray With twilight and with cloud. The room was full of shade Till Persis stirred the slumbering grate fire wide awake, And made it send its flickering shafts of light into Each corner dim—gay shafts that chased the shadows forth And took their place, then stole away and let The shadow back, and then gave chase again, The maddest and the stillest game!