P @ Z 7 R Y
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Its words
Are few, but deep and solemn, and they break
Fresh from the fount Of feeling!-Percipal.
LINES TO ONE WHO WILL UNDER


STAND THEM.


BY J. G. M.
AT dawn Irose with jocund glee,
Forjoyful was the day
That could this blessing give to one,
Now JOY has fled away.
No focks, nor herds, nor stores of gold,
No house, nor home, have |,
II beauty must be bought and sold,
Alas cannot buy.
Yet am rich, if thou art kind,
So pris'd smile from thee,
True love alone our hearts shall bind,
For thou'rt all the world TO me.
Sweet, gentle maid, tho patient, meek,
pray thee dry that tear;
And raise thy dropping head and seek,
SOlt peace, ana comfort mere.
WASHINGTON, May 5, 1916. ..
..at.# s..


TO MISS Y. J.
She wore wreath Of roses,
The day that first we met;
Her lovely face was smiling,
Beneath her curls Of Jet
Her footsteps had the lightness,
Her voice the joyous tone,
The tokens Of youthful heart,
Where sorrow is unknown.
saw her but moment,
Yet methinks see her now
With the wreath of summer flowers,
Upon her snowy brow. .......