Of Helena's treatment of Tommy Joyce,--
Aged twelve,--that's the last flirtation.

What has become of the children, then?
How can an answer be given?
Folly filling each curly head,
Premature vices, childhood dead,
Blighted blossoms--can it be said
"Of _such_ is the kingdom of heaven?"




CHINESE LANTERNS.


Through the windows on the park
Float the waltzes, weirdly sweet;
In the light, and in the dark,
Rings the chime of dancing feet.
Mid the branches, all a-row,
Fiery jewels gleam and glow;
Dreamingly we walk beneath,--
Ah, so slow!

All the air is full of love;
Misty shadows wrap us round;
Light below and dark above,
Filled with softly-surging sound.
See the forehead of the Night