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A PICTURE.
She feels his kiss and his whispered blessing,
And is thinking his last words o'er and o'er:—
"When the steps of another summer
Brighten the meadow and wood and shore,
Close on the steps of the fairy comer,
I will return to roam no more."
"To roam no more;" and her thoughts run forward
(It seems so long, but 'twill come so soon),
And bask in the blissful radiance borrowed
From the rosy light of the next year's June.
Ah, she shudders! a quick suggestion
Chills her heart to its inmost core:
