I stand no more in the waxen-lit room: 
      I see thee again as I saw thee that day,
    In a world of sunshine and springtide bloom,
      ’Midst the green and white of the budding May.

    Now shadow, now shine, as the branches ope,
      Flickereth over my love the while: 
    From her sunny eyes gleams the May-time hope,
      And her pure lips dawn in a wistful smile.

    As one who waiteth I see her stand,
      Who waits though she knows not what nor whom,
    With a lilac spray in her slim soft hand: 
      All the air is sweet with its spicy bloom.

    I knew not her secret, though she held mine: 
      In that golden hour did we each confess;
    And her low voice murmured, Yea, I am thine,
      And the large world rang with my happiness.

    To-morrow shall be the blessedest day
      That ever the all-seeing sun espied: 
    Though thou sleep till the morning’s earliest ray,
      Yet then thou must waken to be my bride.

    Yea, waken, my love, for to-morrow we wed: 
      Uplift the lids of thy beautiful eyes. 
    A light at her feet and a light at her head,
      How fast asleep my Dolores lies!

EMMA LAZARUS.

GLIMPSES OF CONSTANTINOPLE.

CONCLUDING PAPER.

[Illustration:  SCENE IN A BURIAL-GROUND.]

There is a continuous fascination about this old city.  The guide-book says, “A week or ten days are required to see the sights,” but though we make daily expeditions we seem in no danger of exhausting them.  Neither does one have to go far to seek amusement.  I never look down into the street below my windows without being attracted by some object of interest.  The little donkeys with their great panniers of long slim loaves of bread (oh, tell it not, but I once saw the driver use one as a stick to belabor the lazy animal with, and then leave it, with two or three other loaves, at the opposite house, where a pretty Armenian, that I afterward saw taking the air on the roof with her bright-eyed little girl, perhaps had it for her breakfast!); the fierce, lawless Turkish soldiers stalking along, their officers mounted, and looking much better in their baggy trousers and frock-coats on their fine horses than on foot; Greek and Armenian ladies in gay European costumes; veiled Turkish women in their quiet street-dress; close carriages with gorgeously-dressed beauties from the sultan’s harem followed by black eunuchs on horseback,—­these and similar groups in every variety of costume form a constant stream of strange and picturesque sights.