tease my pain,

Do draw it o'er again and o'er again. They hurt my heart with griefs I cannot name:

Always the same, the same.

Nature hath no surprise,
No ambuscade of beauty, 'gainst

mine eyes

From brake, or lurking dell, or deep defile;

No humors, frolic forms,- this mile, that mile;

or happy-valley

No rich reserves hopes Beyond the bends of roads, the distant slopes.

Her fancy fails, her wild is all run

tame:

Ever the same, the same. Oh! might I through these tears But glimpse some hill my Georgia high uprears,

Where white the quartz, and pink the pebbles shine,

The hickory heavenward strives, the muscadine

Swings o'er the slope; the oak's farfalling shade

Darkens the dog-wood in the bottom glade,

HANNAH BINDING SHOES.

POOR lone Hannah,

Sitting at the window, binding shoes, Faded, wrinkled,

Sitting, stitching, in a mournful

muse.

Bright-eyed beauty once was she, When the bloom was on the tree: Spring and winter,

Fair young Hannah,

shoes.

Not a neighbor,

Passing nod or answer will refuse,

Hale and clever,

For a willing heart and hand he sues. May-day skies are all aglow,

And the waves are laughing so!

Never one has brought her any news.
Still her dim eyes silently

Chase the white sails o'er the sea:
Hopeless, faithful,

shoes.

[From Hints.]

THE CURTAIN OF THE DARK.

THE curtain of the dark

Is pierced by many a rent: Out of the star-wells, spark on spark Trickles through night's torn tent.

Grief is a tattered tent

Wherethrough God's light doth shine. Who glances up, at every rent Shall catch a ray divine.

dream,

Like other maidens, in May-time

sight,

In the chosen footprint, at any hap.

In the comfort of home who is glad

der than she?

She reads the hereafter by the here: A beautiful Now, and a better To Be:

In life is all sweetness, in death no fear,

You waste your pity on such as she.

HAND IN HAND WITH ANGELS.

HAND in hand with angels,
Through the world we go;
Brighter eyes are on us

Than we blind ones know;
Tenderer voices cheer us

Than we deaf will own;
Never, walking heavenward,
Can we walk alone.

Hand in hand with angels,
In the busy street,
By the winter hearth-fires,―
Everywhere, we meet,
Though unfledged and songless,
Birds of Paradise;
Heaven looks at us daily
Out of human eyes.

Hand in hand with angels;
Oft in menial guise;
By the same strait pathway
Prince and beggar rise.
If we drop the fingers,
Toil-imbrowned and worn,
Then one link with heaven
From our life is torn.

Hand in hand with angels:
Some are fallen,- alas!
Soiled wings trail pollution
Over all they pass.
Lift them into sunshine!

Bid them seek the sky!
Weaker is your soaring,
When they cease to fly.

Hand in hand with angels;
Some are out of sight,
Leading us, unknowing,
Into paths of light.

Some dear hands are loosened
From our earthly clasp,
Soul in soul to hold us
With a firmer grasp.

Hand in hand with angels,-
'Tis a twisted chain,
Winding heavenward, earthward,
Linking joy and pain.
There's a mournful jarring,
There's a clank of doubt,
If a heart grows heavy,

Or a hand's left out.

Hand in hand with angels
Walking every day;-
How the chain may lengthen,
None of us can say.

But we know it reaches

From earth's lowliest one, To the shining seraph, Throned beyond the sun.

Hand in hand with angels!
Blessed so to be!
Helped are all the helpers;
Giving light, they see.
He who aids another

Strengthens more than one; Sinking earth he grapples

To the Great White Throne.

A STRIP OF BLUE.

I Do not own an inch of land,
But all I see is mine,-
The orchard and the mowing-fields,
The lawns and gardens fine.
The winds my tax-collectors are,
They bring me tithes divine,–
Wild scents and subtle essences,

A tribute rare and free:
And more magnificent than all,
My window keeps for me
A glimpse of blue immensity,-
A little strip of sea.

Richer am I than he who owns
Great fleets and argosies;
I have a share in every ship
Won by the inland breeze
To loiter on yon airy road
Above the apple-trees.

I freight them with my untoki dreams,