A LEAF OF FERN 87 



You kissed me, half laughing, half crying, 



Beseeching me to remain, 

 But impatient I shook you from me 



And you never will come again. 



Your lilacs are ever blooming 



In happy gardens of play, 

 But they love you not who have you, 



And fain would they flee away. 

 They long for the fields of freedom 



Where the fruit of ambition grows, 

 And for manhood's heights, that are lifted 



Against a sky of rose. 



WILLIAM WETMORB STORY. 



A LEAF OF FERN 



(From " Cfiristmas-Ece and Easter-Day ") 



I STOOPED and picked a leaf of fern, 



And recollected I might learn 



From books, how many myriad sorts 



Of fern exist, to trust reports, 



Each as distinct and beautiful 



As this, the very first I cull. 



Think, from the first leaf to the last ! 



Conceive, then, earth's resources ! Vast 



Exhaustless beauty, endless change 



Of wonder ! 



ROBERT BROWNING. 



