Into quivering life shalt start.
—EDITH M. THOMAS.
The wind-flowers and the violets were still too sound asleep,
Under the snow’s warm blanket, close folded, soft and deep.
—CELIA THAXTER.
Beautiful maid, discreet,
Where is the mate that is meet,
Meet for thee—strive as he could—
Yet will I kneel at thy feet,
Fearing another one should,