ROSE LEAF 
The low Reply, 
THE LOYE TOKEN. 
Thy heart is full of blissful hope, 
Of love and truth, dear maid, 
Thy eyes return his raptured look, 
Half trusting, half afraid; 
And, fluttering in his hardy palm, 
Thy little hand is prest, 
While many a wild, delicious hope 
Throbs in thy snowy breast! 
Oh! woman’s love is not as man’s— 
He turns aside awhile, 
To cheer ambition’s thorny road 
With woman’s sunny smile; 
But she embarks her all in love, 
Her life is on the throw— 
She wins, ’tis bliss supreme!—she Tails, 
Unutterable wo! 
Then, maiden, pause—thy destiny 
Hangs trembling in the scale; 
To-morrow, neither wish nor hope 
Nor vain regrets avail! 
Oh! angels in this troth-plight hour 
May stop, and from the sky 
Look down and listen breathlessly 
To hear that low reply! 
E. M. Sidney. 
Low as the sigh of a flower 
Heard in the stillness of night, 
Came the soft tones of the maiden, 
Trembling with fear and delight. 
F. S. O. 
