. Dreams and realities . iting, plain and bold! A thousand memories cluster round each line;I see your dear face, as in days of old, Your smiling eyes look tenderly into seems to draw you nearer, very near,When I reread the lines you wrote, dear. To memorys banqueting to-night there cameGhosts of the past that never really slept, Roused by these words : May my nameIn fond remembrance evermore be kept. Ah me, within my hearts most tender spot Your name is twined with blue forget-me-not But memorys feast is yet so bitter-sweet,We find so many dregs within the wine, 28 DREAMS AND REALITIE
. Dreams and realities . iting, plain and bold! A thousand memories cluster round each line;I see your dear face, as in days of old, Your smiling eyes look tenderly into seems to draw you nearer, very near,When I reread the lines you wrote, dear. To memorys banqueting to-night there cameGhosts of the past that never really slept, Roused by these words : May my nameIn fond remembrance evermore be kept. Ah me, within my hearts most tender spot Your name is twined with blue forget-me-not But memorys feast is yet so bitter-sweet,We find so many dregs within the wine, 28 DREAMS AND REALITIES. That we will shrink, and our poor feet Will falter when we enter there to dine;And yet who would not give up life and allTo live again some day beyond recall? I close the book, my eyes are dim with weeping; Depart, ye ghosts of the dead past who came;Leave me once more in silence, keeping In fond remembrance that one loved haunt me still—old scenes, old joys, old grief,Eecalled by the lines upon this KING WINTER. WHAT means this wild commotionOf the spirits of the night?And why does Mother Nature wear Her bridal robes of white ?And why is every dark tree dressed In gems a prince might own,Of glittering ice ? It is becauseKing Winters on the throne. So all the wind went forth to-night, With carpets for each nook,And robes for every hill and dale, And ice coats for the brook,And frost lace spun from cobwebs, And moonbeams intersown,To deck each fence and shrub because King Winters on the throne. And then the stars will come to light His coronation scene,And every wind-minstrel shall play Soft melodies between;And all the court, arrayed in white, With frost-cold tresses blown,Will bow in humble greeting to King Winter on his throne. THE PICTURE. YES, the face is just the same—Eyes of azure and golden hair—It smiles at me from the quaint old frameThat stands on the table there. I can see her just as she was that day,Sweet as a rosebud dipped in dew, Young
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