Lines From "Maurine."

I'd rather have my verses win A place in common peoples' hearts, Who, toiling through the strife and din Of life's great thoroughfares, and marts,

May read some line my hand has penned; Some simple verse, not fine, or grand, But what their hearts can understand And hold me henceforth as a friend,--

I'd rather win such quiet fame Than by some fine thought, polished so But those of learned minds would know, Just what the meaning of my song,-- To have the critics sound my name In high-flown praises, loud and long.

I sing not for the critic's ear, But for the masses. If they hear, Despite the turmoil, noise and strife Some least low note that gladdens life, I shall be wholly satisfied, Though critics to the end deride.

WHEN.

I dwell in the western inland, Afar from the sounding sea, But I seem to hear it sobbing And calling aloud to me, And my heart cries out for the ocean As a child for its mother's breast, And I long to lie on its waters And be lulled in its arms to rest.

I can close my eyes and fancy That I hear its mighty roar, And I see its blue waves splashing And plunging against the shore; And the white foam caps the billow, And the sea-gulls wheel and cry, And the cool wild wind is blowing And the ships go sailing by.

Oh, wonderful, mighty ocean! When shall I ever stand, Where my heart has gone already, There on thy gleaming strand I

When shall I ever wander Away from this inland west, And stand by thy side, dear ocean, And rock on thy heaving breast?

ONLY DREAMS.

A maiden sat in the sunset glow Of the shadowy, beautiful Long Ago, That we see through a mist of tears. She sat and dreamed, with lips apart, With thoughtful eyes and a beating heart, Of the mystical future years; And brighter far than the sunset skies Was the vision seen by the maiden's eyes.

There were castles built of the summer air, And beautiful voices were singing there, In a soft and floating strain. There were skies of azure and fields or green, With never a cloud to come between, And never a thought of pain; There was music, sweet as the silvery notes That flow from a score of thrushes' throats.

There were hands to clasp with a loving hold; There were lips to kiss, and eyes that told More than the lips could say. And all of the faces she loved were there, With their snowy brows untouched by care, And locks that were never gray. And Love was the melody each heart beat, And the beautiful vision was all complete.

But the castles built of the summer wind I have vainly sought. I only find Shadows, all grim and cold;-- For I was the maiden who thought to see Into the future years,-Ah, me! And I am gray and old. My dream of earth was as fair and bright As my hope of heaven is to-night.

Dreams are but dreams at the very best, And the friends I loved lay down to rest With their faces hid away. They had furrowed brows and snowy hair, And they willingly laid their burdens where Mine shall be laid one day. A shadow came over my vision scene As the clouds of sorrow came in between.

The hands that I thought to clasp are crossed, The lips and the beautiful eyes are lost, And I seek them all in vain. The gushes of melody, sweet and clear, And the floating voices, I do not hear, But only a sob of pain; And the beating hearts have paused to rest, Ah! dreams are but dreams at the very best.