I'm freezing, Travers, help me down; Hark! was not that the sound Of church bells? Travers, come quick I'm afraid of this horrible whiteness around. Look up, Travers, into my eyes; Do you see anything in them to prize? The drifts are rising fast around us, Death has come at last and found us. I am the colonel's daughter, and you Are only--my Jack and the man I love And always have, the long years through. Come, Jack! At last my head finds rest; Draw me closer upon your breast. Has it grown dark? I can not see, But I can feel your dear, strong arm. I am not cold now; it must be The snow was a dream, and we Are at the barracks. Do not keep Me waiting longer; I must sleep. --W. S. P. (_Houston Daily Post_, Sunday morning, February 23, 1896.) Her Choice The trump had sounded, and on pinions white Ascended they who in the grave had lain; And seraph bands in floods of golden light Guided before the pure and heavenly train. And on, past comet and past lurid star They winged their way unto the throne of grace; The burning world behind them glowed far, As low in worship, bowed each angel face. There was among the chosen of the earth A woman beautiful and young and fair; So sweet and chaste, and breathing love and worth, She stood the loveliest of the angels there. And then from out the band about the throne, With eager eyes and outstretched hands, there came The forms of two. Each once had been her own, And she on earth of each had borne the name. (Oh, heaven being love, why should not love be thine, And heart to heart strayed souls again unite, And wife to husband there for aye entwine Their spirit tendrils where is no blight?) And each had been her husband; and each spoke Her name and claimed her with fond eyes And beckoning hands, till from her dream she woke And gazed. Then spake a Voice kind-toned and wise: "Choose you between them who your mate shall be; For heaven were not heaven if it were to lose The other half of self, the ecstasy Of loving and of being loved--so choose." The woman raised her down-cast eyes, and o'er The gathered host of spirits swept her gaze. Twice had her heart gone out in love before; Twice had she felt its warm, eternal rays. Wild, sweet and tender to her memory came Her first love's recollections, like the start Of mighty breakers. Then the steady flame Uprising from her second smote her heart. With pleading eyes, the two stayed on her choice, Each thinking one must win and one must lose. And then she spake, uplifting her sweet voice, And said in tender tones: "And must I choose?"