Sleep sweet, belovëd one, sleep sweet! Without here night is growing, The dead leaf falls, the dark boughs meet, And a chill wind is blowing. Strange shapes are stirring in the night, To the deep breezes wailing, And slow, with wistful gleams of light, The storm-tost moon is sailing. Sleep sweet, belovëd one, sleep sweet! Fold thy white hands, my blossom! Thy warm limbs in thy lily sheet, Thy hands upon thy bosom. Though evil thoughts may walk the dark, Not one shall near thy chamber; But shapes divine shall pause to mark, Singing to lutes of amber. Sleep sweet, belovëd one, sleep sweet! Though, on thy bosom creeping, Strange hands are laid, to feel the beat Of thy soft heart in sleeping. The brother angels, Sleep and Death, Stop by thy couch and eye thee; And Sleep stoops down to drink thy breath, While Death goes softly by thee! [Decoration] _SONG._ FROM "LOVE IN WINTER." "O Love is like the roses, And every rose shall fall, For sure as summer closes They perish one and all. Then love, while leaves are on the tree, And birds sing in the bowers: When winter comes, too late 't will be To pluck the happy flowers." "O Love is like the roses, Love comes, and Love must flee! Before the summer closes Love's rapture and Love's glee!" [Decoration] [Decoration] MORTIMER COLLINS. 1827-1876. _TO F. C._ 20th February 1875. Fast falls the snow, O lady mine, Sprinkling the lawn with crystals fine, But by the gods we won't repine While we 're together, We 'll chat and rhyme and kiss and dine, Defying weather. So stir the fire and pour the wine, And let those sea-green eyes divine Pour their love-madness into mine: I don't care whether 'T is snow or sun or rain or shine If we 're together. _A GAME OF CHESS._ Terrace and lawn are white with frost, Whose fretwork flowers upon the panes-- A mocking dream of summer, lost 'Mid winter's icy chains. White-hot, indoors, the great logs gleam, Veiled by a flickering flame of blue: I see my love as in a dream-- Her eyes are azure, too. She puts her hair behind her ears (Each little ear so like a shell), Touches her ivory Queen, and fears She is not playing well. For me, I think of nothing less: I think how those pure pearls become her-- And which is sweetest, winter chess Or garden strolls in summer. [Illustration: Full-page Plate] O linger, frost, upon the pane! O faint blue flame, still softly rise! O, dear one, thus with me remain, That I may watch thine eyes! [Decoration] _MULTUM IN PARVO._ A little shadow makes the sunrise sad, A little trouble checks the race of joy, A little agony may drive men mad, A little madness may the soul destroy: Such is the world's annoy.