Ho! the revel of his laugh!-- Half is sound of winds, and half Roar of ruddy blazes drawn Up the throats of chimneys wide, Circling which, from side to side, Faces--lit as by the Dawn, With her highest tintings on Tip of nose, and cheek, and chin-- Smile at some old fairy-tale Of enchanted lovers, in Silken gown and coat of mail, With a retinue of elves Merry as their very selves, Trooping ever, hand in hand, Down the dales of Wonderland. Then the glory of his song!-- Lifting up his dreamy eyes-- Singing haze across the skies; Singing clouds that trail along Towering tops of trees that seize Tufts of them to stanch the breeze; Singing slanted strands of rain In between the sky and earth, For the lyre to mate the mirth And the might of his refrain: Singing southward-flying birds Down to us, and afterwards Singing them to flight again; Singing blushes to the cheeks Of the leaves upon the trees-- Singing on and changing these Into pallor, slowly wrought, Till the little, moaning creeks Bear them to their last farewell, As Elaine, the lovable, Was borne down to Lancelot.-- Singing drip of tears, and then Drying them with smiles again. Singing apple, peach and grape, Into roundest, plumpest shape, Rosy ripeness to the face Of the pippin; and the grace Of the dainty stamin-tip To the huge bulk of the pear, Pendant in the green caress Of the leaves, and glowing through With the tawny laziness Of the gold that Ophir knew,-- Haply, too, within its rind Such a cleft as bees may find, Bungling on it half aware. And wherein to see them sip Fancy lifts an oozy lip, And the singer's falter there. Sweet as swallows swimming through Eddyings of dusk and dew, Singing happy scenes of home Back to sight of eager eyes That have longed for them to come, Till their coming is surprise Uttered only by the rush Of quick tears and prayerful hush; Singing on, in clearer key, Hearty palms of you and me Into grasps that tingle still Rapturous, and ever will! Singing twank and twang of strings-- Trill of flute and clarinet In a melody that rings Like the tunes we used to play, And our dreams are playing yet! Singing lovers, long astray, Each to each, and, sweeter things-- Singing in their marriage-day, And a banquet holding all These delights for festival. THE TWINS. One 's the pictur' of his Pa, And the _other_ of her Ma-- Jes the bossest pair o' babies 'at a mortal ever saw! And we love 'em as the bees Loves the blossoms of the trees, A-ridin' and a-rompin' in the breeze! One's got her Mammy's eyes-- Soft and blue as Apurl-skies-- With the same sort of a smile, like--Yes, and mouth about her size,-- Dimples, too, in cheek and chin, 'At my lips jes _wallers_ in, A-goin' to work, er gittin' home agin.