70. MAPLE LEAVES. 



Nor feel the winds of stormy anguish sweep. 



Within her eyes strange, wistful shadows lay ; 



The pencil from her light grasp dropped away, 

 And while the flowers slept, she too fell asleep. 



" But summer days are come ; will she return 



Whose step a thousand blossoms yearn to greet ? 



O questioning flowers ! she has gone hence to learn 

 If in that land your own life is complete ; 

 If heavenward borne on wings of odor sweet 



Ye, too, in hues of deathless beauty burn. 



Frances L. Mace., 



M 



