The Way of the World.

Low sighs have shivered with the passing wind,
And tears have washed young faces with the rain,
But still the rains weep o'er the leaves,
The winds sigh past again.

Soft eyes have turned with love to other eyes
As answering gleams rebound from star to star.
And songs are carried by the seas
To listening ears afar.

But all the stars are dipped in holy fire,
Unconscious altars in the embroidered sky,
And on the seas the waves will curl
Though lovers part and die.

Along the grass the shades will sweetly lie,
And moonbeams weave strange patterns round the trees,
When other eyes exchange their fires
As fervently as these.

—M.E.H.