A bevy of roses, apple-cheeked, 

 In a shell of crystal, ivory-beaked, 

 With a satin sail of a ruby glow. 



Emeeson. 



The winds go up and down upon the seas. 

 And some they lightly clasp, entreating kindly. 

 And waft them to the port where they would be ; 

 And other ships they buffet, long and blindly, 

 And Q-od hath many wrecks within the sea. 

 Yet it is sweet to think his care is under. 

 That yet the sunken treasure may be drawn 

 Into his storehouse when the sea is gone. 



Gael Spencee. 

 83 



