I think thou lovest me--yet a prophet said To-day, Elhadra, if thou laidest dead, From thy white forehead would he fold the shroud, And thereon lay his sorrow, like a crown. The drenching rain from out the chilly cloud, In the gray ashes beats the red flame down! And when the crimson folds the kiss away No longer, and blank dulness fills the eyes, Lifting its beauty from the crumbling clay, Back to the light of earth life's angel flies. So, with my large faith unto gloom allied, Sprang up a shadow sunshine could not quell, And the voice said, Would'st haste to go outside This continent of being, it were well: Where finite, growing toward the Infinite, Gathers its robe of glory out of dust, And looking down the radiances white, Sees all God's purposes about us, just. Canst thou, Elhadra, reach out of the grave, And draw the golden waters of love's well? _His_ years are chrisms of brightness in time's wave-- Thine are as dewdrops in the nightshade's bell! Then straightening in my hands the rippled length Of all my tresses, slowly one by one, I took the flowers out.--Dear one, in thy strength Pray for my weakness. Thou hast seen the sun Large in the setting, drive a column of light Down through the darkness: so, within death's night, O my beloved, when I shall have gone, If it might be so, would my love burn on. From Household Words THE MODERN HAROUN-AL-RASCHID. In the district of Ferdj' Onah (which signifies _Fine Country_), Algeria, lives a Scheik named Bou-Akas-ben-Achour. He is also distinguished by the surname of _Bou-Djenoni_ (the Man of the Knife), and may be regarded as a type of the eastern Arab. His ancestors conquered Ferdj' Onah, but he has been forced to acknowledge the supremacy of France, by paying a yearly tribute of 80,000 francs. His dominion extends from Milah to Rabouah, and from the southern point of Babour to within two leagues of Gigelli. He is forty-nine years old, and wears the Rahyle costume; that is to say, a woollen _gandoura_, confined by a leathern belt. He carries a pair of pistols in his girdle, by his side the Rahyle _flissa_, and suspended from his neck a small black knife. Before him walks a negro carrying his gun, and a huge greyhound bounds along by his side. He holds despotic sway over twelve tribes; and should any neighboring people venture to make an incursion on his territory, Bou-Akas seldom condescends to march against them in person, but sends his negro into the principal village. This envoy just displays the gun of Bou-Akas, and the injury is instantly repaired.