The Aeolian Harp

256 IMPROVEMENT ERA. with his arm uplifted, 'She's come!' Then the poor old heart beat out and he sank back limp and lifeless. "So that's how Ben's mother come back. My wife says I'm gettin' daffy, like Ben, when I say this, but nobody but me and Jessie saw the look in his face when he held his hands up, and neither of us have ever doubted but that Ben's mother come back as she said she would. But thar's your train, stranger. Hope I haven't tired you out with my talking, but a night like this always makes me think o' the time when Ben's mother come. Be careful 'bout the platform; it's mighty slick and slippery." Dallas, Texas. THE ^OLIAN HARP. (For the Improvement Era.) My Erma had a virgin heart. Untouched by love's sweet tender theme, And all my wooing could impart No thought of love's enraptured dream; But all her heart the Muse could melt In strains of music mild and sweet. And only in its power she felt A passion thrilling and complete, To sway her being with surprise Of ecstasy or tearful eyes. Prom costly woods with curious art I made a wind-harp for her bower, I sang to it from my own heart The plaintive songs of love's sweet power; And o'er its carved and fretted sides, And on its inlaid top, I breathed That passion that in me abides, Till to the harp it was bequeathed: And all the strings with love I blest That they might plead my love's request.

PavsoD. Utah. THE .^OLIAN HARP. 257 I placed the harp where it could feel The warm, sweet air beneath the moon Abave it rapturously steal In perfumed zephyrs of the June, And from the casement, one long note. All tremulously sweet and light. Upon our senses seemed to float As from the spirit of the night,— So sad, ethereal and fine. As from a minstrel voice divine. Then, in sweet harmony of notes, Belonging to some sphere above, The strings all joined as minstrel throats And sang a rapturous song of love; Now sad, now joyously attuned, Now so exquisitely refined, Beneath its rhapsody she swooned In strange emttions of the mind. While in her heart was thrilled the pain And bliss of love from its refrain. The music drew her to my side; I watched the marvelous array Of thrilling, sweet emotions glide And o'er her winsome features play; Till suddenly came Cupid's stroke— The harp had won through minstrelsy— And all her being there awoke To love and to be loved by me: And in life's sweet seolian strain The harp still played its loved refrain. J. L. TOWXSEND.