Opportunity: A Poem

446 IMPROVEMENT ERA. springs like this one, for, oh, Boy Beautiful, the springs will al- ways be loaded down with pathos for her, the old ones are only memories. " Boy Beautiful slipped down into my lap. He was asleep; I laid him on the couch beside me, and sat with my face buried in my clasped hands thinking of what once had been. Then there came a strange sound from across the room— a sound as of someone breathing heavily, ending in a half sob. Then someone was beside me; he had heard my story to the boy. And his eyes were beautiful, and his hair was beautiful, and his voice with its dear old accents was sweeter and richer than the songs of the birds in the tree at my window. Then, in an instant, I knew that the rare old beauty of the springtime had come back for me; the hyacinths were glorified in their colors and perfume; the violets filled the garden with their sweetness, and the apple blossoms were flooded with pink. The sunset tints mingled again in their deep combinations, and the waters of the lake fairly danced in their rapture. For he, my husband, drew me up beside him, and we left Boy Beautiful there asleep. Together we passed out into the garden, and there made our peace under God's sky, alone in the springtime twilight. New York, N. Y.

OPPORTUNITY. Master of human destinies am I ! Fame, love, and fortune on my footsteps wait. Cities and fields I walk; I penetrate Deserts and seas remote, and passing by Hovel and mart and palace, soon or late I knock unbidden once on every gate. If sleeping, wake ; if feasting, rise before I turn away ; it is the hour of fate, And they who follow me reach every state Mortals desire, and conquer every foe Save death; but those who doubt or hesitate, Condemned to failure, penury, and woe, Seek me in vain and uselessly implore. I answer not, and I return no more ! John James Ingalls.