The Rosary. [Robert Cameron

Rogers]

The hours I spent with thee, dear heart, Are as a string of pearls to me; I count them over, every one apart, My rosary.

Each hour a pearl, each pearl a prayer, To still a heart in absence wrung; I tell each bead unto the end -- and there A cross is hung.

Oh, memories that bless -- and burn! Oh, barren gain -- and bitter loss! I kiss each bead, and strive at last to learn To kiss the cross, Sweetheart, To kiss the cross.

Once. [Trumbull Stickney]

That day her eyes were deep as night. She had the motion of the rose, The bird that veers across the light, The waterfall that leaps and throws Its irised spindrift to the sun. She seemed a wind of music passing on.

Alone I saw her that one day Stand in the window of my life. Her sudden hand melted away Under my lips, and without strife I held her in my arms awhile And drew into my lips her living smile, --

Now many a day ago and year! Since when I dream and lie awake In summer nights to feel her near, And from the heavy darkness break Glitters, till all my spirit swims And her hand hovers on my shaking limbs. If once again before I die I drank the laughter of her mouth And quenched my fever utterly, I say, and should it cost my youth, 'T were well!

for I no more should wait Hammering midnight on the doors of fate.