All my life's bliss from thy dear life. was given, [thee All my life's bliss is in the grave with But, when the days of golden dreams had perished, And even Despair was powerless to destroy; Then did I learn how existence could be cherished, Strengthened, and fed without the aid of joy. Then did I check the tears of useless passion Weaned my young soul from yearning after thine; Sternly denied its burning wish to hasten mine. Down to that tomb already more than And, even yet, I dare not let it languish, Dare not indulge in memory's rapturous pain; Once drinking deep of that divinest anguish, How could I seek the empty world again? MARIA GOWEN BROOKS. [From Zophiel.] SONG OF EGLA. DAY, in melting purple dying; Thou, to whom I love to hearken, Veil, if ill, thy soul's intent, Save thy toiling, spare thy treasure; Let the shining ore lie darkling, Gifts and gold are naught to me, Tell to thee the high-wrought feeling, Yet but torture, if comprest Absent still! Ah! come and bless me! In a look if death there be, |