If Tam O'Shanter'd had a wheel, and other poems and sketches . drous scenes. She saw a woman pressing through a crowd to touchthe garment of the Nazarene. She saw another, shame-bowed, like herself, and heard His bidding: Go andsin no more; and yet another whose penitential tearsfell on the feet she bathed in precious ointment and driedwith her long hair. A wave of unknown tenderness swept through herheart. I would give Him the lily, she sobbed. It 40 IF TAM 0 SHANTER D HAD A WHEEL. was all she had, and the alabaster box broken by theother Magdelen was not more precious. The evening came, but
If Tam O'Shanter'd had a wheel, and other poems and sketches . drous scenes. She saw a woman pressing through a crowd to touchthe garment of the Nazarene. She saw another, shame-bowed, like herself, and heard His bidding: Go andsin no more; and yet another whose penitential tearsfell on the feet she bathed in precious ointment and driedwith her long hair. A wave of unknown tenderness swept through herheart. I would give Him the lily, she sobbed. It 40 IF TAM 0 SHANTER D HAD A WHEEL. was all she had, and the alabaster box broken by theother Magdelen was not more precious. The evening came, but still she sat there with thelily gleaming whitely through the dusk. Her thoughtsled through the garden to the cross. The outcast sawuplifted there the son of God. Sunday had dawned. The preachers read thewords: I am the resurrection and the life. He thatbelieveth in me though he were dead yet shall he out under the April sky a woman lay, pure as thelily gleaming on her pulseless breast, a fragrant Easterlily, white as her new garment of EVEN IN FAR JAPAN. It was in the time of the cherry bloom,A twelfth month past in far Japan,When under its over-arching shadeShe came, with a look as sweet and staidAs the dames on a paper fan. Id been browsing round, as a tourist will,Bored half to death, Ill frankly own,By the snub-nosed roofs, the paper walls,The squat, black gods in their gaudy stalls,And the carvings of bronze and stone. I cared not a rap for the Buddha calm,For one of the idols gray and grim,But here was an object diffrent, quite;And softly along through shade and lightShe came with her footsteps prim. Shed a scarlet wreath in her raven hair;Her obi hung in a fetching bow;Her feet, in queer, little, fingered hose,Fell each as soft as a falling rose,And I wondered which way shed 4 2 IF TAM OSHANTER D HAD A WHEEL. She paused like a dove that has lost its way,Her soft robe stirrd oer her gentle , I cried, are you straying here,With yo
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