AT winter’s gate she seemeth to delay,
A dream of summer past. Or do her eyes
Grow tender that she hears, beyond gray skies,
Sweet April singing on her earthward way ?
Charles Washington Coleman.

Pioneering Thought.

KNOWING she yet shall meet the whole world’s want,
She knocks to-day, where she has knocked before ;
And waits with patience of a mendicant,
Nor fears refusal from a great mind’s door.
Charlotte Fiske Bates.

For the Rain it raineth every Day.”

AY, every day the rain doth fall,
And every day doth rise :
'T is thus the heavens incessant call,
And thus the earth replies.
John B. Tabb.

The Flower of Dreams.

WHAT flower was that I plucked in sleep last night?
Not this world’s lily, violet, or rose.
The Flower of Dreams greets not the upper light ;
In under-fields, with asphodel, it blows.
Edith M. Thomas.