And think you that it will?

'T is burned, I say, to ashes.

It smoulders cold As grave-yard mould.

I wish indeed you would not blow Upon it so!

The dead to kill.

I say, the ghosts of fires will never stir, Nor woman lift the lashes Of eyes wept dim, howe'er yours shine for love of her!

Ah, sweet surprise! did not think such shining Upon the gloom Of this cold room Could fall. Your even, strong, calm breath Calls life from death.

The warm light lies At your triumphant feet, faint with desire To reach you. See! The lining Of violet and of silver in that sheath of fire!

If you would care-- Although it is November-- I will not say A bitter nay To such a gift for building fires.

And though it tires Me to think of it--I 'll own to you (If you can stir the ember) It may be found at last, just warm enough for two!

TOLD IN CONFIDENCE.

Vow you 'll never, never tell him!

Freezing stars now glittering farthest, fairest on the winter sky; If he woo me, Not your coldest, cruel ray Or can or may Be found more chill and still to him than I.

Swear you 'll never, never tell him!

Warm, red roses lifting your shy faces to the summer dew; If he win me, Blush your sweetest in his sight For his delight, But I can be as warm and sweet as you.

WHAT THE VIOLINS SAID.

SONG.

"We 're all for love," the violins said.--SIDNEY LANIER.

Do I love you? Do I love you?

Ask the heavens that bend above you To find language and to prove you If they love the living sun.

Ask the burning, blinded meadows If they love the falling shadows, If they hold the happy shadows When the fervid day is done.

Ask the blue-bells and the daisies, Lost amid the hot field-mazes, Lifting up their thirsty faces, If they love the summer rains.

Ask the linnets and the plovers, In the nest-life made for lovers, Ask the bees and ask the clovers-- Will they tell you for your pains?

Do I, Darling, do I love you?

What, I pray, can that behoove you?

How in Love's name can I move you?

When for Love's sake I am dumb!

If I told you, if I told you, Would that keep you, would that hold you, Here at last where I enfold you?

If it would-- Hush! Darling, come!

WON.

Oh, when I would have loved you, Dear, The sun of winter hung more near; Yet not so sweet, so sweet, so sweet, The wild-rose reddening at my feet.

Your lips had learned a golden word, You sang a song that all men heard, Oh, love is fleet, the strain is long.

Who stays the singer from her song?

Across my path the red leaves whirled.

Dared I to kneel with all the world?

How came I, then, to clasp you, Sweet, And find a woman at my feet?

SPENT.

Heart of iron, smile of ice, Oh! the rock.

See him stand as dumb as death.

If you could, Would you care to stir or shock Him, think you, by a blow or breath, From his mood?

Arms of velvet, lips of love, Oh! the wave.

See her creeping to his feet Trustfully.

None shall know the sign he gave.

Death since then, were all too sweet.

Let her die.

Lift thine eyes upon the sea, Soul of stone.

Rather (wouldst thou breathe or move?) I would be A warm wave, faithful, wasted, thrown, Spent and rent and dead with love, Than be thee.

PARTED.

Oh, never a word he answered, And never a word spake she!

They turned their faces each from each, And looked upon the sea.

The hands that cannot clasp for life, Must quickly severed be.

The love that is not large enough To live eternally,

In true love's name, for fair love's fame, Must die before its bloom; For it, in all G.o.d's earth or heaven, There is no garden-room.

Though all the wine of life be lost, Try well the red grape's hue.

Holy the soul that cannot taste The false love for the true.

And blessed aye the fainting heart For such a thirst shall be-- Yet never a word they spoke, and looked Upon the bitter sea.