For they cried, “Fill high the goblet!

We must drink to one Saint more!”


EVANGELINE ON THE PRAIRIE.

EAUTIFUL was the night. Behind the black wall of the forest,

Tipping its summit with silver, arose the moon. On the river

Fell here and there through the branches a tremulous gleam of the moonlight,

Like the sweet thoughts of love on a darkened and devious spirit.

Nearer and round about her, the manifold flowers of the garden