The Argosy . ose no thorns disclose,Only the happy wearer knows. Love gave one ashes, gave one bread,Fed on the soul that on it fed,And kissed my heart until it bled. Love gave me sunlight, gave me only pleasure, only only loss, my only gain. Yet did the gain so far outweighThe infinite loss, that till to-dayI never wished my pain away. Because I thought that you, at least. Wore only roses at our feast. And heard a song that never ceased. But now I know that you, as I,Hear knells in all our revelry,And, not for passion only sigh; That you, too, bear a heavy sway twixt
The Argosy . ose no thorns disclose,Only the happy wearer knows. Love gave one ashes, gave one bread,Fed on the soul that on it fed,And kissed my heart until it bled. Love gave me sunlight, gave me only pleasure, only only loss, my only gain. Yet did the gain so far outweighThe infinite loss, that till to-dayI never wished my pain away. Because I thought that you, at least. Wore only roses at our feast. And heard a song that never ceased. But now I know that you, as I,Hear knells in all our revelry,And, not for passion only sigh; That you, too, bear a heavy sway twixt sense of gain and , rent by tempests, turn and toss, I know not whether, for your sake, I would not choose this chain to break, And—dream bereft—meet life awake. And you—what would you choose ? Who knows ?Since each one to the other showsOnly the wine—the smile—the rose. Ah, love of mine—to you, to me—Loves martyrdom must welcomed be—The price of Loves Eternity. E. Nksbit. ?Ai :; It. M. STAPLES. It is so hot and ugly, she exclaimko in tones of KXCLSK;*i sit without it when i am alone. THE ARGOSY JUNE, 1888, THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. BY MRS. HENRY WOOD, AUTHOR OF EAST LYNNE. ^ CHAPTER story. OUR dismayed faces might have formed a study for a painter,as we stood in my room in Essex Street: the doctor, GeorgeConey, Lennard, and myself. On the floor between the hearthrugand the desk, lay the dead man, the blaze of the fire and the gas-hghts playing on his features. Mr. Brightman was dead. In mymental pain and emotion I could not realise the fact; would notbelieve that it was true. He had died thus suddenly, no one nearhim; no one, so far as was yet known, in the house at the to me, at least, there seemed to be some mystery attaching to it. But, at this particular moment, we were looking for George Coneyssovereigns, which Mr. Brightman, not much more than an hourbefore, had locked up in the deep drawer of his desk, returning th
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Keywords: ., bookauthorwoodhenr, bookcentury1800, bookdecade1860, bookyear1865
