Let bloom-dust of my life be blown To quicken hearts that flower alone; Around my knees let scions rise With heavenward-pointed destinies. And when I fall, like some old tree, And subtile change makes mould of me, There let earth show a fertile line Whence perfect wild-flowers leap and shine! M. THOMPSON. The Veery.[17] The moonbeams over Arno's vale in silver flood were pouring, When first I heard the nightingale a long-lost love deploring. So passionate, so full of pain, it sounded strange and eerie, I longed to hear a simpler strain,--the wood notes of the veery. The laverock sings a bonny lay above the Scottish heather; It sprinkles down from far away like light and love together; He drops the golden notes to greet his brooding mate, his dearie; I only know one song more sweet,--the vespers of the veery. In English gardens, green and bright and full of fruity treasure, I heard the blackbird with delight repeat his merry measure: The ballad was a pleasant one, the tune was loud and cheery, And yet, with every setting sun, I listened for the veery. But far away, and far away, the tawny thrush is singing; New England woods, at close of day, with that clear chant are ringing: And when my light of life is low, and heart and flesh are weary, I fain would hear, before I go, the wood notes of the veery. H. VAN DYKE. [17] From "The Builders, and Other Poems," copyright, 1897, by Charles Scribner's Sons. The Eavesdropper. In a still room at hush of dawn, My Love and I lay side by side And heard the roaming forest wind Stir in the paling autumn-tide. I watched her earth-brown eyes grow glad Because the round day was so fair; While memories of reluctant night Lurked in the blue dusk of her hair. Outside, a yellow maple-tree, Shifting upon the silvery blue With small innumerable sound, Rustled to let the sunlight through. The livelong day the elvish leaves Danced with their shadows on the floor; And the lost children of the wind Went straying homeward by our door. And all the swarthy afternoon We watched the great deliberate sun Walk through the crimsoned hazy world, Counting his hilltops one by one. Then as the purple twilight came And touched the vines along our eaves, Another Shadow stood without And gloomed the dancing of the leaves. The silence fell on my Love's lips; Her great brown eyes were veiled and sad With pondering some maze of dream, Though all the splendid year was glad. Restless and vague as a gray wind Her heart had grown, she knew not why. But hurrying to the open door, Against the verge of western sky I saw retreating on the hills, Looming and sinister and black, The stealthy figure swift and huge Of One who strode and looked not back. B. CARMAN. Sesostris.