For his tasting she chastised him, gave a push and lost her balance, And both tumbled down the hill. C. N., in Vermillion Republic, Buffalo, 1889. A RECIPE FOR A SALAD To make this condiment, your poet begs Four times the spoon with oil from Lucca crown. Oh, green and glorious! oh, herbaceous treat! Sidney Smith. THE BOND (From the Armenian of Archag Tchobanian) All things are bound together by a tie Finer and subtler than a ray of light. Color and sound are fleeting fragrances, The maiden's smile, the star beams sparkling bright, Are knit together by a secret bond Finer and subtler than a ray of light. Sometimes an urn of memories is unsealed Flowers call back men and women to our thoughts; The summer sea recalls fond, happy hours; In starlight holy loves upon us smile; With our own griefs the stormy thunders roar; All things are bound in closest unison Throughout the world, by many a mystic thread. The flower and love, the breeze and reverie, Nature and man, and things alive and dead, Are all akin, and bound in harmony Throughout the world by many a mystic thread. By permission. Alice Stone Blackwell. WHAT WOULD YOU TAKE? What would you take for that soft little head What would you take for that smile in the morn, What would you take for those pink little feet, The wrinkly little neck and that funny little nose? Good Housekeeping. THE PUMPKIN Ah! on Thanksgiving Day, when from East and from West, From North and from South come the pilgrim and guest, When the gray-haired New Englander sees round his board The old broken links of affections restored, When the care-wearied man seeks his mother once more And the worn matron smiles where the girl smiled before, What moistens the lip and what brightens the eye? What calls back the past like the rich pumpkin-pie? O fruit loved of boyhood!-the old days recalling, When wood-grapes were purpling and brown nuts were falling! When wild, ugly faces we carved in its skin, Glaring out through the dark with a candle within! When we laughed round the corn-heap, with hearts all in tune, Our chair a broad pumpkin,-our lantern the moon, Then thanks for thy present-none sweeter or better That the days of thy lot may be lengthened below, By permission Houghton Mifflin Company. John Greenleaf Whittier. THE ETERNAL GOODNESS I know not what the future hath Assured alone that life and death And if my heart and flesh are weak No offerings of my own I have, And so, beside the silent sea, No harm from Him can come to me I know not where His islands lift Their fronded palms in air; I only know I cannot drift John Greenleaf Whittier. |