Nor stole a fraction for the newer call,

But in the mother's heart found room for all!

THE SAD MOTHER

BY KATHARINE TYNAN HINKSON

O when the half-light weaves
Wild shadows on the floor,
How ghostly come the withered leaves
Stealing about my door!

I sit and hold my breath,

Lone in the lonely house;

Naught breaks the silence still as death,

Only a creeping mouse.

The patter of leaves, it may be,
But liker patter of feet,
The small feet of my own baby

That never felt the heat.

The small feet of my son,
Cold as the grave yard sod;
My little, dumb, unchristened one
That may not win to God.

"Come in, dear babe," I cry,
Opening the door so wide.
The leaves go stealing softly by;
How dark it is outside!

And though I kneel and pray
Long on the threshold-stone
The little feet press on their way,

And I am ever alone.

NUSAIB*

TRANSLATION OF C. J. LYALL FROM THE ARABIC

They said last night-to-morrow at first of dawning, or may be at eventide, must Laila go!

My heart at the word lay helpless, as lies a Kata in net night-long, and struggles with fast-bound wing. Two nestlings she left alone, in a nest far distant, a nest which the winds smite, tossing it to and fro. They hear but the whistling breeze, and stretch necks to greet her but she they await the end of her days

is come!

So lies she, and neither gains in the night her longing, nor brings her the morning any release from pain. * By permission of the publishers of The Warner Library of the World's Best Literature.

LAMENT

BY RODEN NOEL

I am lying in thy tomb, love,

Lying in thy tomb,

Tho' I move within the gloom, love,

Breathe within the gloom!

Men deem life not fled, dear,

Deem my life not fled,

Tho' I with thee am dead, dear,

I with thee am dead,

O my little child.

What is the gray world, darling,

What is the gray world,

Where the worm lies curl'd, darling,

The deathworm lies curl'd?,

They tell me of the spring, dear!

Do I want the spring?

Will she waft upon her wing, dear,

The joy-pulse of her wing,

Thy songs, thy blossoming,

O my little child.

For the hallowing of thy smile, love,

The rainbow of thy smile,

Gleaming for awhile, love,

Gleaming to beguile,

Replunged me in the cold, dear,

Leaves me in the cold.

And I feel so very old, dear,

Very, very old!

Would they put me out of pain, dear,

Out of all my pain,

Since I may not live again, dear,

Never live again!

I am lying in the grave, love,

In thy little grave,

Yet I hear the wind rave, love,