VISIONS.

"She was a phantom," &c.

IN lone Glenartney's thickets lies couched the

lordly stag,

The dreaming terrier's tail forgets its customary

wag;

And plodding ploughmen's weary steps insensibly

grow quicker,

As broadening casements light them on towards

home, or home-brewed liquor.

It is (in fact) the evening-that pure and pleasant

time,

When stars break into splendour, and poets into

rhyme;

B

When in the glass of Memory the forms of loved

ones shine

And when, of course, Miss Goodchild's is prominent

in mine.

Miss Goodchild!-Julia Goodchild!-how graciously

you smiled

Upon my childish passion once, yourself a fairhaired child:

When I was (no doubt) profiting by Dr. Crabb's

instruction,

And sent those streaky lollipops home for your fairy suction!

"She wore" her natural " roses, the night when

first we met".

Her golden hair was gleaming 'neath the coercive

net :

"Her brow was like the snawdrift," her step was

like Queen Mab's,

And gone was instantly the heart of every boy at

Crabb's.

The parlour-boarder chasséed tow'rds her on graceful

limb;

The onyx deck'd his bosom-but her smiles were not for him:

With me she danced-till drowsily her eyes "began to blink,"

And I brought raisin wine, and said, "Drink, pretty creature, drink!”

And evermore, when winter comes in his garb of

snows,

And the returning schoolboy is told how fast he

grows;

Shall I-with that soft hand in mine-enact ideal

Lancers,

And dream I hear demure remarks, and make

impassioned answers :

I know that never, never may her love for me

return

At night I muse upon the fact with undisguised

concern

But ever shall I bless that day: (I don't bless, as

a rule,

The days I spent at "Dr. Crabb's Preparatory

School.")

And yet we too may meet again-(Be still, my throbbing heart!)

Now rolling years have weaned us from jam and

raspberry-tart:

One night I saw a vision-'Twas when musk

roses bloom,

I stood we stood-upon a rug, in a sumptuous

dining-room:

One hand clasped hers-one easily reposed upon

my hip