AR Thou Wilt. It i no dwrt to Kvo MT little life to-day Th*t I would never lon re it, if 1 might forever tay ! 1 sometime* *av. 1 urn o weary I .ord. I would lie down for yo, Oould 1 but hoar Thee *]Hak the word : " Thy dins are washed away !" I aonitrtiiuc* day. The better IIKMMI that lied These moods MNti midway I'ouic* softly, ami I lift my eves, " I -ord, as Then wilt' 1 pray. And would alway. l'str.in trod. Some day she will conic tack. my ]xor lost dove My dove with the warm breast and eager eye. ' How did it fail toward her, my jwssiouate love Whore was the t'.aw '. mnov llflß.si it must have been, Or surely she had staid with nir. my qmvn. Her heart wa full of luarticula e cries Which my heart failed to oa ch ; ami yet *1 a" rove To cleave to me. Ah, liew she mut have striven, Traying, perchance, of times f,ir strength from heaven ! Hut n v strength came ; and so, one fatal day, Despairing of all help, she went away. And then' tier half completed javrtnut stand* The fresh, young face, ami gray eyes twunaied with light. I |iaiu:cd her with flowvra in tier hands, Becau-o she always secon d so 1 right and good, 1 never thought the studio's solitude Would hurt her anyway 1 thought the sigh Of painted forms ami nilfannliar lands Would be enough for her. She >n too mild. Too l vat lent with my painter's life. I\Mf. lUuat uie aud watoh me ; aud these is uthem •UM Rcllected ui deep*! re am* ; and that dark I vat From which a