Harry | Page 3

stupid to change such a dream
Into reality
tame and secure?
'Tis sweet to find I am wrong in the thought,
Joy is but brighter for

being confess'd;
Every moment has happiness brought,
Every stage
of true love is the best.
They wish me at home to sit and to sew--
And I like to do what my
aunt thinks right--
But the stitching never seem'd half so slow,
Nor
zigzagg'd itself as it did one night.
And my work kept slipping out of my hand
As wonderful thoughts
came into my head:
Sure, life is becoming too bright and grand
To
be given up to needles and thread!
I was thinking of words that Harry spake,
And of looks that more
than mere words betray,
With a joy as pure as the first snow-flake,

And almost as ready to melt away.
And with little tears beginning to start,
And with smiles and blushes
that come and go;
And I did not know what was in my heart,
Or
else I pretended I did not know!
O sudden awaking from dream so fair!
'Tis the voice of my aunt, and
I hear it say--
'Child, are you falling asleep in your chair?
Will you
ever finish that collar, May?'
I caught up my work (I knew I was wrong),
Determin'd to finish it ere
we sup;
But something within me, for me too strong,
Conquer'd
myself, and I had to give up.
'O, my Aunt Bridget,' I timidly said,
'I am tired_ of stitching--I _want
to rest;
O let me gather the roses instead,
The young little roses the
first and best.'
Soft summer twilights caressing the air
Have buried the garden in
lovely gloom;
But I knew that the eagerest roses there
Were just
beginning to think they might bloom.
The pretty wee stars kept peeping about,
And even peep'd in through

our prison bars,
As she gravely said, 'Who ever went out
To gather
a rose by the light of stars?'
My heart beat fast at the beautiful phrase;
She had not intended it, I
suppose,
But I felt I could love her all my days,
If under the stars I
might pluck one rose!
Pleading my cause in so ardent a way,
Almost evoking an answering
glow,
Crying, 'You once were as young and as gay'--
Then, she
smil'd a little and let me go.
'Twas pleasure enough to be out of doors;
I look'd at the stars and I
felt content:
But it never rains, you know, but it pours,
And the path
that I had to go--I went!
Playing with fancies, in fanciful play,
'If I want a rose,' I demurely
said,
'I must look for an omen to point the way,
And I must look for
it over my head.'
So I found a star that shone in the sky,
And mark'd how it glitter'd
down on a tree,
And felt--but I swear that I know not why--
There
grow the roses intended for me!
And as I approach the shadowy boughs
That are spreading out over
earth and air,
A gay little miracle fate allows,
And the star appears
to be sparkling there!
Gladly I ran o'er the daisy-clad plain,
Led by the shimmering light of
the star,
And under the tree I found--Harry Vane
Lying, and
smoking a 'mild cigar!'
I started astonish'd--he stood upright,
And said, in a voice
persuasively kind,
'Don't you know that I come here every night,
To
see your shadow flit by on the blind?'
I look'd where he pointed, as if 'twas I
Could see my own phantom

flicker and pass,--
And Aunt Bridget's shadow mov'd solemnly by,

Over the canvas that hangs by the glass!
Oh, how could we help it?--we laugh'd aloud
(Birds never cease their
sweet voices in spring;
And I think in youth little laughters crowd

And spring to our lips at everything!)
In laughter we lost all sense of surprise;
It seem'd only natural we
should meet;
And a star shot flaming across the skies,
And a little
glow-worm gleam'd at my feet.
And a distant bell swung its solemn chime,
That seem'd to me like the
voice of a star;
And I think, through a century of time,
I shall
always believe that such things are.
And then--it was then--he spoke, and I heard;
And the moon rose up,
and the stars grew dim,
And all of a sudden the nightingale-bird

Triumphantly chanted her jubilant hymn.
What are you singing about, little birds,
Twittering loudly in
lime-tree and oak?
Telling each other the wonderful words
On a
sweet May evening a lover spoke?
Butterflies, floating away from the trees,
With blossom-like wings of
delicate dye,
You are bearing tidings certain to please,
Scatter them
freely, but do not ask why.
Two lovers stood 'neath a star-lighted sky,
Half fearfully touching
enchanted ground:
One lover was Harry, and one was I,
And the
world went merrily round and round.
Souls rushing together from distant parts,
Vows utter'd that cannot be
ever undone;
A minute ago two lives and two hearts,
Through time
and eternity now but one.
O foolish butterflies! chattering birds!
Instinct in vain with humanity

strives;
You can't understand the wonderful words
Or magical
kisses that changed two lives!
What is Nature made for? is it for us
The