IN GREENWOOD GLEN.
In greenwood glen, where greedy bees
Drain fragrant flower-cups to the lees,
When summer's shining lances smite
The grain-fields gleaming golden bright,
I hear Æolian melodies.
The music bounds along the breeze
In ever-changing symphonies,
And lulls my soul with calm delight
In Greenwood glen.
Elusively it faints and flees,
Retreats, returns,-but no one sees
The piper; for, as in affright,
He skilfully eludes the sight;
'Tis Pan who hides amid the trees,
In Greenwood glen.
Clinton Scollard.
HER CHINA CUP.
Her china cup is white and thin;
A thousand times her heart has been
Made merry at its scalloped brink;
And in the bottom, painted pink,
A dragon greets her with a grin.
The brim her kisses loves to win;
The handle is a manikin,
Who spies the foes that chip or chink
Her china cup.
Muse, tell me if it be a sin:
I watch her lift it past her chin
Up to the scarlet lips and drink
The Oolong draught, somehow I think
I'd like to be the dragon in
Her china cup.
Frank Dempster Sherman.