The cymbals' clash, the cannons' crash, That rent the sky with sound and flash?

And did you see me waiting there, Just waiting there and watching there, One little lass, amid the mass

That pressed to see the hero pass?

And did you see him smiling down, And smiling down, as riding down With slowest pace, with stately grace, He caught the vision of a face,

My face uplifted red and white,

Turned red and white with sheer delight, To meet the eyes, the smiling eyes, Outflashing in their swift surprise?

Oh, did you see how swift it came,
How swift it came, like sudden flame,
That smile to me, to only me,

The little lass who blushed to see?

And at the windows all along,

Oh, all along, a lovely throng
Of faces fair, beyond compare,
Beamed out upon him riding there!

Each face was like a radiant gem,
A sparkling gem, and yet for them
No swift smile came, like sudden flame,
No arrowy glance took certain aim.

He turned away from all their grace,
From all that grace of perfect face,
He turned to me, to only me,

The little lass who blushed to see!

NORA PERRY.

A GIRL OF POMPEII.

A PUBLIC haunt they found her in:
She lay asleep, a lovely child;
The only thing left undefiled
Where all things else bore taint of sin.

Her charming contours fixed in clay
The universal law suspend,

And turn Time's chariot back, and blend

A thousand years with yesterday.

A sinless touch, austere yet warm,

Around her girlish figure pressed,

Caught the sweet imprint of her breast, And held her, surely clasped, from harm.

Truer than work of sculptor's art

Comes this dear maid of long ago,
Sheltered from woful chance, to show

A spirit's lovely counterpart,

And bid mistrustful men be sure

That form shall fate of flesh escape,
And, quit of earth's corruptions, shape

Itself, imperishably pure.

EDWARD SANFORD MARTIN

ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON.

From an

etching by Hollyer, after photograph from lil .