Now she holds them nakedly

In her hands, all sleek and dripping,
While she rocketh to and fro.

Little Ellie sits alone,

And the smile she softly uses

Fills the silence like a speech, While she thinks what shall be done, And the sweetest pleasure chooses For her future within reach.

Little Ellie in her smile

Chooses, "I will have a lover, Riding on a steed of steeds. He shall love me without guile, And to him I will discover

The swan's nest among the reeds.

"And the steed shall be red-roan, And the lover shall be noble,

With an eye that takes the breath.

And the lute he plays upon
Shall strike ladies into trouble,

As his sword strikes men to death.

"And the steed it shall be shod All in silver, housed in azure;

And the mane shall swim the wind;

And the hoofs along the sod

onward, and koon measure,

"But my lover will not prize
All the glory that he rides in,
When he gazes in my face.

He will say, 'O Love, thine eyes
Build the shrine my soul abides in,
And I kneel here for thy grace!'

"Then, ay, then he shall kneel low,
With the red-roan steed anear him,
Which shall seem to understand,
Till I answer, 'Rise and go!'

For the world must love and fear him
Whom I gift with heart and hand.

"Then he will arise so pale,

I shall feel my own lips tremble With a yes I must not say : Nathless maiden-brave, Farewell,' I will utter, and dissemble

'Light to-morrow with to-day!'

"Then he'll ride among the hills
To the wide world past the river,
There to put away all wrong,
To make straight distorted wills,
And to empty the broad quiver
Which the wicked bear along.

"Three times shall a young foot-page Swim the stream, and climb the mountain, And kneel down beside my feet:

'Lo! my master sends this gage,

Lady, for thy pity's counting.
What wilt thou exchange for it?'

"And the first time I will send
A white rosebud for a guerdon :
And the second time, a glove ;

But the third time I may bend

From my pride, and answer,- Pardon,
If he comes to take my love.'

"Then the young foot-page will run ;
Then my lover will ride faster,
Till he kneeleth at my knee:

'I am a duke's eldest son,

Thousand serfs do call me master,
But, O Love, I love but thee!'

"He will kiss me on the mouth
Then, and lead me as a lover

Through the crowds that praise his
deeds.

And, when soul-tied by one troth,

Unto him I will discover

That swan's nest among the reeds."

Little Ellie, with her smile

Not yet ended, rose up gayly,

Tied the bonnet, donned the shoe,

And went homeward, round a mile,
Just to see, as she did daily,

What more eggs were with the two.

985267A

Pushing through the elm-tree copse,
Winding up the stream, light-hearted,
Where the osier pathway leads,
Past the boughs she stoops, and stops.
Lo, the wild swan had deserted,
And a rat had gnawed the reeds!

Ellie went home sad and slow.
If she found the lover ever,

With his red-roan steed of steeds,
Sooth I know not; but I know
She could never show him-never,
That swan's nest among the reeds.
Mrs. Browning.

A MESSAGE.

Ir was Spring in the great city-every gaunt and withered tree

Felt the shaping and the stir at heart of leafy prophecy;

All the wide-spread umber branches took a tender tint of green,

And the chattering brown-backed sparrow lost his pert, pugnacious mien

In a dream of mate and nestlings shaded by a verdant screen.

It was Spring-the grim ailanthus, with its snaky

arms awry,

Held out meagre tufts and bunches to the sun's persistency:

Every little square of greensward, railed in from the dusty way,

Sent its straggling forces upward, blade and spear in bright array,

While the migratory organs Offenbach and Handel play.

Through the heart of the vast Babel, where the tides of being pour,

From his labor in the evening came the sturdy stevedore,

Towering like a son of Anak, of a coarse, ungainly mould;

Yet the hands begrimed and blackened in the hardened fingers hold

A dandelion blossom, shining like a disk of gold.

Wayside flower! with thy plucking did remembrance gently lay

Her hand upon the tomb of youth and roll the stone away?

Did he see a barefoot urchin wander singing up the lane,

Carving from the pliant willow whistles to prolong the strain,

While the browsing cows, slow driven, chime their bells in low refrain?

Did his home rise up before him, and his child, all loving glee,

Hands and arms in eager motion for the golden mystery?