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quenched
for evermore;
And so she guessed she'd best return

To her calm
Shaker home,
And curb the feelings of her heart,
And never seek to
roam.
O Shaker maiden, pause, I pray,
Take further earnest thought,

Nor stay the longings of your heart,
With heaven-born nature
fraught
Duties there are on every side,
Awaiting willing hands,


All unrestricted, unconfined
By any creeds or lands.
Sweet ties of
home are holier far,
Spontaneous acts more true,
Than any Shaker
work ordained
For man to struggle through.

ICE PALACE.
O palace of marvellous beauty and light,
Like a shrine of
enchantment thou art to the sight,
As sparkling with pride 'neath the
sun's fond caress,
Thou blushest with love's conscious joyful excess.
Ten thousand bright jewels, from Neptune's realm won,
Compose thy
weird structure, where daily the sun
And nightly the Moon in turn
sparklingly play
Through each lunar ripple and bright solar ray.
Like some ancient temple upreared to the sun,
As chaste as a
bride--and as pure as a nun,
Result of stern winter's imperious
commands,
Fitting tribute to it in these northern lands.
Thy empire, O ice king, is stern and severe,
But it has rare pleasures
which all hold most dear.
We, our winter pastimes to greet thee
convoke,
And the goddess of health with thee daily invoke.
In gleeful assemblage we now celebrate
Thy reign, through
tobogganing, snow-shoes, and skate,
In sliding along to the
sleigh-bells' blithe sound,
O'er rivers, and meadows, and
snow-mantled ground.
Then hurrah for the Palace, the ice king, the snow;
Around them let
mirth and hilarity flow,
Hurrah for our Governor, country, and main,

And God bless our loved Queen, and long may she reign.

THE FABLE OF THE SPHYNX

Facts gathered from a lecture by George Chainey, of Boston, U.S.
Oh! the image and the fable of the Sphynx!
What lessons do they teach,
What sermons do they preach
Of the
riddle and the mystery of life!
'Tis a union of brute force and love sublime.
A female face and head
To a lioness form are wed,
Embodying
strength and purity divine.
The lioness, a symbol of wild might;
The peerless head and face,
And bust of female grace,
Are types of
pure affection and delight.
In each one lies this dual element:
Leonine cruelty,
That well might master be,
If not o'er-ruled by
strict fidelity.
And the all-powerful conquering light of love,
Which, blessing those
who give
No less than who receive,
Makes bliss on earth, as God's
laws clearly prove.
In crowning thus the Sphynx with love's sweet worth,
We have for us the old,
Sweet gospel ever told
That love in peerless
might should rule the world.
Shall then our path o'er life's uncertain way
Be led by a true heart,
Acting pure love's kind part,
Or by fierce
guidance of a beast of prey?
To what heroic heights mortals may climb,

Humanity to serve,
With loving heart and nerve,
Are seen in
Buddha, and in Florence Nightingale.
And to what depths of leonine lust and crime
A cruel man may go,
Scattering fear, ruin, woe,
Witness fierce Nero
and Caligula!
In each these possible heights and depths betide,
All, then, may freely choose,
None can the choice refuse,
Between
the higher and the lower guide.
Where selfishness and unchecked passions stray
As ruling motives sole,
To reach a tinselled goal,
There crouches
the ferocious beast of prey.
Shall life to us be crowned with blessings sure,
As noblest woman's life,
Harmonious 'mid all strife,
Or blurred
with bestial appetites impure?
Surely the answer should be prompt and plain,
That we, at any cost,
Will not be so far lost
As to permit the beast
o'er love to reign.
The purport of the dual female form,
Shrines the grand truth, that Might
Should bravely nourish Right,

Life's checkered pathway sweetly to adorn.
'Tis said the Sphynx in ancient Afric' stood
Upon the great highway,
Beckoning all to stay,
Who passed, to
guess life's riddle if they could,

Which if they failed in, she devoured them there,
As she believed that they
Who would not learn life's way,
Were not
entitled its best joys to share.
But Oedipus, a wiser man than most
Passing, the riddle guessed,
That gave the Sphynx sweet rest,
And
forthwith she descended from her post.
Knowing her secret, once devined, would be
Learned by all thinkers, then
Proclaimed by them to men,
Her
mission o'er, she vanished 'neath the sea.
The axiom of "Man, know thyself" is worth
The pains it costs to learn,
E'en through long labours stern,
Since
'tis the key that opes rich joys on earth.
Pure knowledge entereth through struggles fierce,
And only to the few
Who sternly seek the true,
Is given to solve the
mystery of the Sphynx.

UP, SISTERS, MORN IS BREAKING.
Up, sisters! morn is breaking
Over the mountains grey,
As, borne
on silvered pinions,
She ushers in the day.
She comes, and at her bidding
The empress of the night,
And starry
hosts of heaven,
Veil their supernal light.
Scarce has their empire ended,
O'er the awakening earth,
When
morning, fresh and joyous,
With dewdrops clad comes forth.

And now the great sun's chariot,
Led by the rosy hours,
Sweeps
through the heavens proudly,
And o'er fond nature towers.
The grand, majestic