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I love my neighbor like myself, this Ingin Summer day,

I feel it's glorious to live, for life is all O. K.

Natur', the good ol' schoolmarm who pities our distress,

She gives her children every year this little glad



OH, these rondeaus and triolets are pretty as violets,

They 're dainty, artistic and neat ;

They're Gallic, Parisian, and pinks of precision, And veritable sweets for the sweet.

They give a soft pleasure to young men of leisure—

Those beautiful feminine men

Who on literature's border crochet and embroider, And do "fancy-work" with the pen.

Their sapless aridities, their dry insipidities,

In statuesque beauty are wrought,

But 't would be unconventional to express an intentional

Wilful, original thought.


And all lives are a poem; some wild and cyclonic,
With verses of cynical bluster Byronic;
And some still flow on in perpetual benison,
As perfect and smooth as a stanza of Tennyson;
And some find huge boulders their currents to

And are broken and bent like the poems of Pindar;
And some a deep base of proud music are built on,
The calm ocean smell of the epic of Milton;
And some rollick on with a freedom completer
In Whitman's chaotic, tumultuous meter.

But most lives are mixed, like Shakespearian dramas,

Where the king speaks heroics, the idiot stam


Where the old man gives counsel, the young man loves hotly,

Where the king wears his crown and the fool wears his motley,

Where the lord treads his hall and the peasant his heather

And in the fifth act they all exit together,And the drama goes out with its pomp, and its thunder,

And we weep, and we laugh, and we listen, and wonder!

-The Cosmic Poem.

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RS. ALICE ELOISE BARTLETT, author, was born in Delavan, Wis., September 4th, 1848. Her maiden name was Bowen, and she is widely known by her pen-name, "Birch Arnold." Her first poem, "The Meeting of the Waters," was published in the Madison Democrat. With all its crudities it was unique and poetic, and the encouragement received determined her to enter into the field of literature as a profession. In 1877 she published her first novel, "Until the Daybreak,” which at once gave her a rank among story writers. In 1872 she commenced to write for the Toledo Blade and Locke's National Monthly. Her articles attracted a great deal of attention, and D. R. Locke ("Petroleum V. Nasby") told a friend that he intended to "adopt that promising young man." His (Nasby's) chagrin on learning that the young man was a girl can be imagined. It has often afforded her amusement to find her utterances commented on as the "vigorous ideas of thinking men." To the world-at-large she still remains, and is often addressed as, "Birch Arnold, Esq." Ill health for several years prevented the continuous effort necessary to pronounced success, but lyrics, essays and miscellaneous writings have from time to time appeared over her signature. In 1876 she was married to J. M. D. Bartlett, of Quincy, Ill., and has two children. As a conversationalist she is interesting, and is an elocutionist of no ordinary ability. She is extremely sincere and earnest in her life, as well as her writings, and her heart is in the elevation of her sex and of humanity. Her latest work is a novel entitled "A New Aristocracy," (Detroit, 1891), dealing with women and the labor question. Her home is in Detroit, Mich. H. A. V.


MOONBEAM and night,
Mystical light,

Mingle and merge on the edge of the stream,

Where in a breath

As silent as death

The lily gives birth to the soul of a dream.

Gossamer wings, Vanishing things,

That flutter and dazzle, now fade and now shine, Lift from its heart

When the pale sepals part,

A spirit o'er human, though less than divine.

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