I am an atom in the universe;
I am composed of myriads of atoms
That are each composed of countless atoms more.
I am a moving, breathing, living human being.
I am I!
I see, I hear, I feel, I speak.
I _think_ of this vast wilderness of worlds,
The universe, and the thought affords me pleasure.
_Can it_ think of me?
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A Picture.
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Tall and stately, well-developed, graceful as a willow bough,
Dark, luxuriant, glossy ringlets clust’ring o’er a noble brow;
Pearly, rounded arms and shoulders, long and slender pink-tipped
hands;
Clasped above one dimpled elbow glitter two, broad golden bands.
In a nest of snowy laces, coyly hiding from survey,
Gently heaves a blushing bosom in a love-provoking way.
’Neath a gown of fine-spun fabric plainly is the outline traced
Of voluptuous hips expanding from a high and narrow waist.
Tapering limbs of witching plumpness, cunning, captivating feet—
Form suggesting worlds of pleasure, dreams of bliss than aught more
sweet.
Ah! a face of wondrous beauty! Deep, dark eyes of midnight blue,
Silken lashes lightly resting on soft cheeks of healthy hue.
Tinted ears, like dainty sea-shells, finely chiseled nose and chin;
Even teeth of gleaming whiteness in a small mouth half shut in;
Full, ripe lips—a fount of sweetness—ever pleading for a kiss.
Who could see without admiring an impassioned girl like this?
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The Purity of Passion.
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As the sunshine wooes the water
Till it gleams with glad’ning smiles,
And the burning earth’s bare beauty
The soothing cloud beguiles;
As the valley lies contented
’Neath the shelt’ring mountain high,
And the wild flow’r yields its sweetness
To the winsome butterfly;
As the winds with gentle tremor
The willing leaves caress,
And the vine entwines the oak tree
With loving tenderness;
As the planets in their orbits
Their satellites allure,
So—in perfect health and reason—
Is Love’s passion to the pure.
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Love’s Content.
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O darling, there is in this great world of ours
So much, so very much sadness,
But, when you hold me in your arms and kiss me,
I feel only joy and gladness.
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He Loved Her.
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He loved her. His blue eyes looked lovingly down into hers
And read there an answer responsive and true.
She knew that he loved her. His eyes told the tale of his love,
Those half-closed, kind eyes of such soft, melting blue.
But his lips never spoke those sweet words to her ear,
Those three sweet words, “I love you,” she longed so to hear,
O why wouldn’t he just say, “I love you?”
He loved her. His red, trembling lips touched her own, and clung there
In one tender kiss, one long, rapturous kiss.
She knew that he loved her. Her heart throbbed with happiness deep,
And her whole being thrilled with an infinite bliss.
But the whispered “My darling,” she longed for in vain,
For his lips, when not kissing, would silent remain.
O why wouldn’t he whisper, “My darling?”
He loved her. His arms held her quivering form close to him;
She felt his hot breath on her soft, blushing cheek.
She knew that he loved her. With passionate tenderness then
He clasped her still closer. Her own will grew weak.
Would the sweet, longed-for words from his lips never come?
Alas! never, poor girl! For her lover was dumb.
O what exquisite joy was denied her!
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Relativity.
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If all the flowers were roses,
A rose would not be rare;
If all the days were cloudless,
We’d call not any fair.
If all the books were bibles,
But few would learn to read;
If all the world were Christians,
There’d be no better creed.
If everything were scarlet,
There’d be no black or white;
If there were nothing evil,
There’d be no wrong or right.
If every zone were frigid,
There’d be no milder clime;
If everybody pilfered,
To steal would be no crime.
If people did not differ
In sentiment and thought,
Mankind would be a unit,
And life would be for naught.
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A Spring Idyl.
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On the branches of the trees
In the summer morning breeze,
Many merry, happy birds
Sing their songs to flocks and herds.
Little, laughing, rippling rills
Gaily flow down green-clad hills.
In open fields, in forest nooks,
On the mossy banks of brooks,
Shedding rare and sweet perfume,
Dewy, bright-hued flowers bloom.
O’er the waving, glistening grass
Come a loving lad and lass.
Strolling so leisurely, languidly, dreamily,
Plucking a flower now here and now there;
Chatting so merrily, happily, cheerily.
Blessings be many on that loving pair.
Notice how carefully, lovingly, tenderly,
O’er the rough way he is guiding her feet.
See how she eagerly, joyfully, gratefully
Drinks in the strains of his voice low and sweet.
What is he saying?
Timid, delaying,
Wishing, yet fearing, his love to impart.
Why is he waiting,
Shy, hesitating?
Surely that maid knows the love in his heart.
Why does he blush so?
Why does she flush so?
Ah, he has told her! What joy lights her face!
Kissing, caressing,
Sweet love expressing,
Thrilling with bliss in each other’s embrace.
Louder and livelier, merrier, sprightlier,
Warble your benison, beautiful birds,
While Nature smilingly, heartily, cordially
Blesses with silence more welcome than words.
Screened by the wide-spreading, friendly old maple tree,
Bathed in the glorious sunshine they stand.
Together, then, leave them in sacred communion—
Holy affections deep reverence command.
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