Intaglios.

Waikato Times, Volume XXII, Issue 1812, 16 February 1884, Page 2 (Supplement)

Intaglios.

A GIANCIS BACKWARD. " Dead," did you say ? I had not heard— Your turn to deal. I knew her well Before her marriage, when she drew Hcaits after her, as ladies do In whom we see divinely blent Baauty and »iace to lavishmenfc, That holds the soul as in a spell. She had such dainty ways, and when — Hsaifcs trumps ? 1 pass— and when her eyes Mot jours, you felt no longer wise, But stupid, and ashamed, and mean. So spiritual and serene, So full of gentle dignity And lily loveliness was she In her pure life's sufficiencies. I mind me how, one autumn day, Just when the leavea were turning red, I met her near the bridge where diones The brook along its path of stones ; And shadows in the willows high Slide thi ough the leafy canopy And o'er the sylvan way are shed. She bore a pitcher, old and quaint, And dimpling to the colored rim, When, paubiug in her girlish fun She laughed a happy laugh and free, And bade me drink to memory, Her eyes with mockery abrim. " I drained," you say, " the Circe's cup ? " Not I ; nor do I care to hear The tauntincjjehl while— how this smoke Weakens the bight, and makes one choke And sicken — A" ! — ah ! that will do; I'm bettei. Oft upon my view Eises that scene in outline clear. And through my mind there sounds the rill Flooding with npples gold and brown The slimy dam, whe.e, in his blue And burnished coat forever new, The diagon fly, a monitor, Out? the suu-curient with a whir, Beating his fierce wings up and down. And while the willows, with their prone, Thick blanches sing a low lefiain, I see a Kachuel, young and sweet, Spilling a nectar at my feet — A holy water — which, to-day, Could wash my darkest sin away, Were I to ieel its touch again. She tossed her curls, and, with a nod, Tripped lightly past, the shallow pool ; And I—lI — I went my course ; you know 'Twas nearly thirty years ago — I've lost a pomt — and now she lies Beside her child, where foreign skies — " I loved her ? " I ? Don't be a fool ! — Mary E. Blanchard.