Of changeless love and all that kind of thing,
Of hearts in which a passion never dies--
_My_ heart's as fickle as the summer skies
Across whose face the changing cloud-forms wing.

Unfailing loves unfailing troubles bring.
I love to touch on Cupid's harp each string,
Though each unto my questioning touch replies
A fickle heart.

So, 'twixt some thirty loves I'm wavering,
To each the same unstable vows I fling,
Reading the first glad gleam of love's surprise
In thirty pair of brown and azure eyes,
Finding in all the same thought answering;
A fickle heart.

GUY WETMORE CARRYL.
_Columbia Spectator._


~My Lady goes to the Play.~

With the link-boys running on before
To light her on her way,
A-lounging in her sedan goes
Belinda to the play.

In patch and powder, puff and frill,
From satin shoe to hair,