Tlie thoughtless day, the easy night, 
The spirits pure, the slumbers light, 
That fly the approach of morn. 
Alas, regardless of their doom, 
The little victims play! 
No sense have they of ills to come, 
No care beyond to-day. 
Yet see how all around them wait, 
The ministers of human fate, 
And black misfortune’s baleful train, 
Ah! show them where in ambush stand. 
To seize their prey, the murderous band l 
Ah, tell them they are men! 
Gray’s Eton College. 
Life went a Maying 
With Nature, Hope, and Poesy, 
When I was young! 
Coleridge. 
Ice-Plant. ... Frigidity. 
Canst thou no kindly ray impart, 
Thou strangely beauteous one? 
Fairer than fairest work of art, 
Yet cold as sculptured stone! 
Thou art in Friendship’s bright domain 
A flower that yields no fruit; 
And Love declares thy beauty vain;— 
Of fragrance destitute! 
0. S. M. Ordway. 
