Winter, wilt keep the love I offer thee? No mesh of flowers is bound about my brow; From life’s fair summer I am hastening now. And as I sink my knee, Dimpling the beauty of thy bed of snow, Dowerless, I can but say, O, cast me not away! * * * * * IMPROMPTU TO THE AUTHOR OF “THE OCEAN-BORN.” BY A READER. Oh! once again resume thy potent pen, Thou pleasing stranger and heart-moving man, And lead our thoughts back captive once again, As thou alone of others only can. Thy “Slaver” long had lingered in our mind, And called forth hopes of future fame for thee, When came thy “Cabin-Boy,” so fair and kind, To set our heart’s best thoughts and feelings free— Say, was he real? Truth seemed written On every line that in the tale was shown, And maidens fair by the ideal were smitten, And sighed because the real was unknown. Silent and passionless our hearts had beat For months, and feared thou hadst resigned thy sway, And earth-cares closely clung around our feet, When sprung thy “Ocean-Born” to joyous day. Thy beauteous “Garcia,” pure as e’er a star, Called forth all pity, sympathy and love; We dreaded lest the ending, darkling far, Would all too fierce and desp’rate for her prove; But for the son who, born of such a pair, Thy wondrous pen portrayed so truly good, The picture thou hast drawn so passing fair, To us it seemed as by thee he had stood. Oh! cease not yet—nor deem it labor vain The treasures of thy mind to bring to view, Let the creations of thy soul again Their joyous power spread over us anew. * * * * * THE ARTIST’S LOVE. BY THE AUTHORESS OF THE CONSPIRATOR. THE TABLEAU. The curtain arose and a murmur of applause greeted the beautiful scene that appeared. An open window unclosed on a valley sleeping in the moonlight, and the over-arching heavens glittering with its quiet stars. Beside the window leaned the lady, her head half-turned from the page who knelt at her feet, and clasped her hand between his tremulous fingers: and she—oh how divinely fair was that girl! She represented one of a royal race, and well did she look the character she had assumed. The turn of the graceful head, the curve of the red lip belonged to the royalty of beauty, and there was a pretty air of condescension in the attitude she assumed toward the kneeling youth; while he looked up to her and sent forth his soul in the deep gaze he bent upon her face. The first fond dream of the enthusiast’s heart was realized, and his spirit bowed in homage before the ideal of his young imagination.