"What do you gather?" the young man said-- "I seek fame for eternity, Toiling on while the world's abed, Alone," said he.

"What do I gather?" I laughing said, "Nothing at all save memory, Sweet as flowers, but never dead, Like thine, Rosie."

"I have no fear of thieves," I said, "Daylight kills not my reverie, Fame will find I am snug abed, That comes to me."

"The past is my treasure, friends," I said, "Time but adds to my treasury, Happy moments are never fled Away from me."

"All one needs to be rich," I said, "Is to live that his past shall be Sweet in his thoughts, as a wild rose red, Eternally."

_WELCOMING THE NEW YEAR_.

We gathered, a jovial party, Together on New Year's eve, To welcome the coming monarch And to see the old one leave,

We chatted around the fireside, And wondered what time would bring: We had not a tear for the parting year, But longed for the coming king.

For youth reaches ever forward, And drops from its eager clasp The realized gifts of fortune, Some phantom of hope to grasp.

Soon a maiden spoke of the custom, Now lapsed in this age of prose, To open the door for the New Year The instant the Old Year goes;

Then, leaving the door wide open, To stand in the silent street And, with a generous "welcome,"

The entering guest to greet.

It suited our youthful fancy, And, when the glad chimes began, From our cosy nook by the fireside Down into the street we ran.

And, far and near, we all could hear The great bells ringing out the year, And, as they tolled, the music rolled, Hoa.r.s.e-sounding, over town and wold.

"The year is dead," _Gros Bourdon_ said, The clanging echoes quivering fled, And, far and wide, on every side, The bells to one another cried.

The mountain woke, and from its cloak Shook off the echoes, stroke for stroke.

Then silence fell on hill and bell, And echoes ceased to sink and swell.

Standing beside the door wide open thrown, Her voice more musical than any bird's, And with a winning sweetness all its own, Our Queen thus winged her joyous thoughts with words:

"Ring out, bells, ring! Sing, mountain, sing!

The king is dead, long live the king!

Now fast, now slow; now loud, now low, Send out your chimes across the snow.

"Old Year, adieu; welcome the New, The door stands open here for you.

Come in, come in, the bells begin To falter in their merry din."

Then, as the great bells ceased to swing, two broke A silver coin, for luck in days to come, And though no tender words of love they spoke, Yet hearts speak best when most the lips are dumb.

_A GREATER THAN HE._

Baby sits upon the floor, Baby's scarce a twelvemonth old; Baby laughs, and _goo-goos_ o'er Memories how a babe of yore Humbled Glooskap bold.

Glooskap was a man of might, Skilled in magic, huge of limb; Giant, wizard, goblin, sprite, Ghost, witch, devil, imp of night, All had fled from him.

Then he questioned: "Can there be Further labors to be done?

Breathes there one to equal me, Who before me will not flee?"

Quoth a squaw: "Yes, one."

"Name him," angry Glooskap cried, "Baby," said she, "And be warned-- If you meddle, woe betide All your glory, all your pride!

For you will be scorned,"

Baby sat upon the ground, Harming none, and sucked his thumb, Gazing with a look profound Upon Glooskap and around, Solon-wise, Sphinx-dumb.

Glooskap never married was, So he thought, like all his kind, That he knew the nursery laws Wholly, and with ease could cause Service prompt and blind.

Sweetly, the magician smiled, Like the summer sun, and said: "Hither, Baby." But the child, By the sweet smile unbeguiled, Only shook his head.

Like a bird among the trees, Singing, Glooskap spake once more: Baby listened to the glees, Sucked his thumb, and sat at ease Still upon the floor.

Thundering, the magician spoke: "Hither, Baby, I command!"

Baby stirred not, only broke Into wailings that awoke All the desert land.

Mystic song and magic spell, Fit to raise the very dead, Fit to rule the imps that dwell In the deepest depths of h.e.l.l, Glooskap sang and said.

All was vain. Upon the floor Baby sat, and heard each lay, Listened close, and called for more, When each mystic song was o'er, But did not obey.

Then the baffled warrior wept; And the baby in delight, Sitting where a sunbeam slept, Laughed and crowed, and crowing kept, Till his foe took flight.

_LIFE IN NATURE_.

Life grows not more nor less; it is but force And only changes; Expended here, it takes another course, And ever ranges Throughout this circling universe of ours, Now quickening man, now in his grave-grown flowers.

Yet dwells life not alone in man and beast And budding flowers.

It lurks in all things, from the very least Gleam in dark bowers Of the great sun, through stones, and sea, and air, Up to ourselves, in Nature everywhere.

Life differs from the soul. This is beyond The realms of science; G.o.d and mankind it joins in closest bond, And bids defiance To Death and Change. By faith alone confessed, It dwells within our bodies as a guest.

The germ of life sleeps in the aged hills And stately rivets, And wakes into the life our hearts that thrills And in leaves quivers.

The universe is one great reservoir From which man draws of thinking life his store.

And, therefore, is it that the weary brain, That seeks communion With Nature in her haunts, finds strength again In that close union: She is our mother and the mind distressed Drinks a new draught of life at her loved breast.