MY ALCHEMY. 'Yes, Alchemy is false, 'tis said, The longed-for lore, of which we've read, O wiser than the hungering eyes O love that, like the radiant sun, Bid darkness, cloud, and wintry shower, Be with us, Alchemist most sage, Be with us through the hours of age, And gild, for us and all, the world We darkly see through death. BABY MAY. CHEEKS as soft as July peaches, Hands all wants and looks all wonder Deep as thoughts of cares for nations, Slumbers-such sweet angel-seemings, BABY'S SHOES. O THOSE little, those little blue shoes! That those shoes would buy, For they hold the small shape of feet That no more their mother's eyes meet, That by God's good will, Years since grew still, And ceased from their totter so sweet! And O, since that baby slept, That little dear treasure, And o'er them thought and wept! For they mind her for evermore Of a patter along the floor, Look up from her knees, With the look that in life they wore. |