Will You Love Me When I'm Old. ILL affection still enfold me When the day of life declines, When old age with ruthless rigor Plows my face in furrowed lines; When the eye forgets its seeing, And the hand forgets its skill, And the very words prove rebel To the mind's once kingly will; When the deaf ear, strained to listen, Scarcely hears the opening word, And the unfathomed depths of feeling Are by no swift current stirred; When fond memory, like a limner, Many a line perspective casts, Spreading out our bygone pleasures On the canvas of the Past; When the leaping blood grows sluggish, And the fire of youth has fled; When the friends who now surround us Half are numbered with the dead; When the years appear to shorten, Scarcely leaving us a trace; When old Time with bold approaches Marks his dial on my face; When our present hopes, all gathered, Lie like dead flowers on our track; When the whole of our existence Is one fearful looking back; When the ready tongue is palsied, WANDERED by the brookside I wandered by the mill; I could not hear the brook flow,- But the beating of my own heart I sat beneath the elm tree; But the beating of my own heart The Brookside. He came not,-no, he came not, The night came on alone,- Each on his golden throne; The evening wind passed by my cheek, The leaves above were stirred, But the beating of my own heart Fast silent tears were flowing, It drew me nearer,-nearer,— For the beating of our own hearts Was all the sound we heard. -Richard Monckton Milnes, (Lord Houghton.) C The Shepherd to His Love. And we will all the pleasures prove That valleys, groves, and hills, and fields Woods or steep mountains, yields. And we will sit upon the rocks, There will I make thee beds of roses A gown made of the finest wool, A belt of straw, and ivy buds, The shepherd swains shall dance and sing -Christopher Marlowe. IF The Nymph's Reply. F that the world and love were young, But time drives flocks from field to fold, Thy gowns, thy shoes, thy beds of roses, Thy belt of straw and ivy buds, |