Under the roses, the Blue,

Under the lilies,the Gray

So with an equal splendor
The morning sun-rays fall,
With a touch,impartially tender,
On the blossoms blooming for all;-
Under the sod and the dew,

Waiting the Judgment day;'Broidered with gold, the Blue; Mellowed with gold, the Gray.

So, when the summer calleth,
On forest and field of grain,
With an equal murmur falleth
The cooling drip of the rain;--

Under the sod and the dew,
Waiting the Judgment day;—-

Wet with the rain, the Blue;
Wet with the rain, the Gray.

Sadly, but not with upbraiding,
The generous deed was done;
In the storm of the years that are fading,
No braver battle was won;—

Under the sod and the dew,
Waiting the Judgment day;--
Under the blossoms, the Blue;

Under the garlands, the Gray.

No more shall the war-cry sever,
Or the winding rivers be red;

They banish our anger forever

When they laurel the graves of our dead!

THE BLUE AND THE GRAY. OUR OWN.

Under the sod and the dew,
Waiting the Judgment day;--
Love and tears for the Blue;
Tears and love for the Gray.

OUR OWN.

MRS. M. E. SANGSTER.

If I had known in the morning,

How wearily all the day

The words unkind would trouble my mind,

I said when you went away,

I had been more careful, darling,

Nor given you needless pain:

But we vex our own with look and tone
We might never take back again.

For though in the quiet evening
You may give me the kiss of peace,

Yet it might be that never for me
The pain of the heart should cease.
How many go forth in the morning

That never come home at night,

And hearts have broken for harsh words spoken,
That sorrow can ne'er set right.

We have careful thoughts for the stranger,

And for the sometime guest,

But oft for our own the bitter tone,
Though we love our own the best.
Ah! lips with the curve impatient,
Ah! brow with a look of scorn,
'Twere a cruel fate, were the night too late,
To undo the work of morn.

75

THE CUP BEARER.

EMILIE CLARE.

In olden time there lived a king

For wit and wisdom much renowned

In feasting and in reveling

He far surpassed all kings around.

Now it so happened, on a time

When the great lords of earth had met, To feast o'er meats, and fume o'er wine, It needed still one person yet,—

One all important personage,

To bear the cup with lordly grace; When lo, a youth of tender age

Said modestly, "I'll take his place.'

Well pleased, the king smiles a consent, The youth the cup and napkin bore, And gracefully his footsteps bent

To those who knightly honors wore.

"Well done," was passed from lip to lip! "My son," his father said, "this thing

Was nobly done, yet you to sip

Forgot, before you gave your king."

THE CUP BEARER.

"Nay, I forgot no custom old,

But coiled within the cup, I saw A poisonous serpent, fold on fold,

And that was why I shunned the law."

"A serpent, child! and poisonous ?-why!How can you speak so strange and wild?" "I saw the poisonous serpent nigh,

66

And shunned it," said the timid child.

"Aye! shunned it, for I saw the power
On those who drank but yesterday,
In less by far, than one short hour
Their wit and wisdom fled away.

"Some tried to dance, and some to sing,
And some to walk as vainly tried,
While you, forgetful you were king,
Mounted a broom-stick for a ride."

77

"I'D MOURN THE HOPES.”

TOM MOORE.

I'd mourn the hopes that leave me,
If thy smiles had left me too;
I'd weep when friends deceive me,

Hadst thou been like them untrue.

But while I've thee before me,

With heart so warm, and eyes so bright,

No clouds can linger o'er me,

That smile turns them all to light.

'Tis not in fate to harm me,

While fate leaves thy love to me;

'Tis not in joy to charm me,

Unless joy be shar'd with thee. One minute's dream about thee

Were worth a long and endless year

Of waking bliss without thee,
My own love, my only dear!

And, though the hope be gone, love,

That long sparkled o'er our way,

Oh! we shall journey on, love,
More safely, without its ray;