Though ours be tenements, not towers,
  Theirs, lawns and halls of ease,
Beloved, ’tis heaven, not gold, is ours,
  And the realities. 
No sordid wish doth make us one,
  But love, love, love. 
O surely, surely, that is done
  Which the sweet stars approve.

THE STILL TRYST.

How love transcends our mortal sphere,
  And sees again the spirit-world,
Forgot so daily.  Thou art here;—­
  I know thee, sweet—­though fair impearled
Thy face in a far atmosphere
    To others,—­hearing in the sea
    My love a-crying up to thee.

Thou by the surf, I on the lake:—­
  Yet in the real world we meet;
And O, for thy endeared sake,
  Love, all I am is at thy feet. 
With thy life let me breathing take,
    And through all nature do thou see
    My love a-crying up to thee.

And with thine eyes shall I pursue
  Yon shower-veils from the sunset flying,
Blown mid clouds white and lurid-blue
  That crowd the rainbow’s arch, defying
Him who in red death shoots them through. 
    Look with me; in this pageant see
    My love all glowing up to thee.

See what I see, hear what I hear,
  I too am with thee by the wave—­
One all the day, the hour, the year: 
  Our trust of love shall be so brave,
We shall deny that death is here
  Or any power in the grave. 
    I know thee; thou canst love like this;
    Be ours the endless spirit-kiss.

Dusk falls.  How purely shines that star,
  Concealed while day was in the sky;
Life, love and thou not mortal are,
  Though atheist noon your world deny. 
Dusk falls:—­though in the west a bar
    Of bloom on evening’s pure cheek be;
    In beauty thy love cries to me.

THE CHICKIEBIDS.

The chickiebids are in their nest
    Overhead,—­
Dimpled shapes of rosy rest
    Curled a-bed. 
Night has sung her spell, and thrown
    Her dark net round
Their heads; their pearly ears have grown
    Deaf to all other sound.

O of me how you are part,
    Babies mine! 
Your hearts are children of my heart. 
    The inner sign
Of my eyes lurks in your eyes,
    And your soul,
That so brims with Paradise,
    Stirs what wonders roll
Unsuspected in myself,
    Who had thought
Life half death, till childhood’s elf—­
    Sign of angels men shall be—­
    Came and taught
A youth eterne within futurity.

THE CAUGHNAWAGA BEADWORK SELLER.

Kanawaki—­“By the Rapid,”—­
  Low the sunset midst thee lies;
And from the wild Reservation
  Evening’s breeze begins to rise. 
Faint the Konoronkwa chorus
  Drifts across the current strong;
Spirit-like the parish steeple
  Stands thy ancient walls among.