. Ballads of life. 95 BALLADS OF LIFE. CHANCE. A AVORD unspoken, a hand unpressed,A look unseen or a thought unguessed,And souls that were kindred may live apart, Never to meet or know the truth —Never to know how heart beat with heart In the dim past days of a wasted youth. She shall not know how his pulses leapt When over his temples her tresses crept; As she leaned to give him the jasmine wreath She felt his breath, and her face flushed redWith the passionate love that choked her breath, And saddens her life now her youth is dead. A faded woman who waits for death,And murmurs a name beneath
. Ballads of life. 95 BALLADS OF LIFE. CHANCE. A AVORD unspoken, a hand unpressed,A look unseen or a thought unguessed,And souls that were kindred may live apart, Never to meet or know the truth —Never to know how heart beat with heart In the dim past days of a wasted youth. She shall not know how his pulses leapt When over his temples her tresses crept; As she leaned to give him the jasmine wreath She felt his breath, and her face flushed redWith the passionate love that choked her breath, And saddens her life now her youth is dead. A faded woman who waits for death,And murmurs a name beneath her breath;A cynical man who scoffs and jeers At women and love in the open day,And at night-time kisses, with bitter tears, A faded fragment of jasmine spray. MINNE-HA-HA. In the lana of the Dacotahs Flows a clear and sunlit stream-Minnehaha, Laughing Water, Sporting in the morning beamEchoing in the midnight stillness, Shivering in the morning ray,Sparkling in the golden sunset. Laughing at the close of In the land of the Dacotahs Flows a clear and sunlit stream —Minnehaha, Laughing Water, Sporting in the morning beam. SONGS OF HOPE AND MEMORY. 99 By this stream of Indian romance, Dark-eyed maids and warriors dreamed;Roamed the fair with Hiawatha, Where the tiny rainbow glearriecf; There they roamed as lovers only, Listening unto Natures the beautiful Wynona Hastened to the spirit home. Gone are they, still Minne-ha-ha, Laughing, shivering, dances on ;Time, like thee, is swiftly piassing— Like thy bubbles, we are I linger as I leave thee. That thine image eer may stand,Uneffaced, on memorys tablet — Picture of that northern , i86i. A HOME PICTURE. The hearth is swept—the fire is bright, The kettle sings for tea;The cloth is spread, the lamp is light,The muffins smoke in napkins white. And now I wait for thee. Come, home, love, come, thy task is done; The clock ticks listeningly;The blinds are shut, the curtain down,The warm c
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