Faded the footstep of Spring from our garden, Sighing the Autumn wind vanishing goes, Behold now, how close to us dreams are approaching-- Love, it is time for repose! List, how the leafage in raindrops all tearful Trembles and wails for a sorry defeat,-- All that was ours, that we once proudly boasted, All, was a glittering cheat. Dark as a funeral pall hanging over, Fluttering clouds in their mockery close; Sighing within us is silenced our singing-- Love, it is time for repose. Deceitful from heaven's fair emerald rainbow, Soft borrowed glamour of moonbeams doth woo; Since even you to my faith were disloyal, Love, my false Springtime were you! Soon will the sunbeams last radiant shining Trackless be hurled where the Autumn wind blows, Slumber enmeshes my soul and the darkness-- Love, it is time for repose! FOFANOW. THE BEGGAR There stood a beggar asking alms By the cathedral gate, His face bore torture marks of life-- Pale, tired, blind--like fate. Thin, tired, pale and blind he begged A crust of bread alone, And some one pausing, placed within His outstretched hand--a stone. And even so I asked your love, I brought my dreams, my life--the while Unto my passion you replied Only with your cold smile! FOFANOW. WITH ROSES Darling, accept my bunch of perfumed roses;-- Because in royal beauty and in freshness sweet They dared to rival you,--I cut them down and bound The criminals and brought them to your feet. _From the Georgian of Prince Tschawtschawadze_. THE STARS With joy in your heart and a smile on your lips You admired the soft Southern night, And do you know when your beautiful eyes Were remarked, all the stars at the sight Were put out and turned faint in the skies? This morning they brought their complaint to the sun-- "In ether a star quite unknown! If to-night this same comet shall shine Whose radiance extinguished our own, We must all, our old splendor resign!" And sadly the sun made them answer,--"Alas! Before her, I am pale at high noon;-- See, to-day all is rainy and cold, 'Tis the trace of defeat seen so soon, 'Tis the trace of eclipse you behold!" * * * * * O happy the being whose life from afar Shall be lighted by such a lode star! _From the Caucasian of Prince Oberlaine_. WHISPERS AND THE TIMID BREATHING Whispers and the timid breathing, Nightingale's long trill, Silver moonlight and the rocking Of the dreaming rill; Nightly light and nightly shadow, Shadow's endless lace-- Neath the moon's enchanted changes The Beloved's face. Blinking stars as flash of amber, Snowy clouds on-rush, Tears and happiness and kisses-- And the dawn's red blush! FROM "FÊTE CHENCHINE." _Fête Chenchine, so-called, has no rival in impressionistic effects. The above without a verb is a good instance of his peculiar caprice_. THE TALES OF THE STARS