And I sometimes think, as down by the sea I sit and dream, that there comes to me From my darling a message that none may see, Save those who can read love's mystery By Nature written on leaf and tree. Strange things to my spirit-eyes lie bare In the azure depths of the summer air: Through the snowy leaves of the lily fair Gleams her pure white soul, and I compare Its golden heart to her sunny hair. The perfume nestling among the leaves, Or blown on the wind from the autumn sheaves, Is her spirit of love, my soul believes; And while my stricken heart still grieves That gentle presence its pang relieves. A shell is cast by the waves at my feet, With its wondrous music low and sweet; And in its murmuring tones I greet The voice of my love, while its crimson flush From her fair young cheek has stolen the blush. Mid white foam, tossed on the pebbly strand, I catch a glimpse of a waving hand: 'Tis a greeting that well _I_ understand; But to those who see not the soul of things 'Tis only the spray which the wild wave flings. The pearl's rare whiteness, the coral's red, From the brow and the lip of my beautiful dead Their soft tints stole when her spirit fled; And it seems to me that sweet words, unsaid By my darling, gleam through the light they shed. Thus down by the sea, in the white sunshine, While the winds and the waves their sighs combine, I sit, and wait from my love a sign; And a message comes to my waiting eyes From under the sea where my treasure lies. H. L. LEONARD. ON SPELLING REFORM.