A MEMOR Y SWEE T. 119

And this is mine then let me be !

Give me my isle, my tropic sea,

My hut upon a mountain steep,

My fruit groves where the trade winds sweep,

These simple joys, wealth without pelf,

My thoughts, my dreams, myself, myself.

A MEMORY SWEET.

1HAVE a memory, sweet and clear,

Of a woman whose name was Rest ;

Who folded me in with warm, strong arms

Away from care and the world s alarms,

Close down on her tranquil breast.

I have a memory, clear and sweet,

With never a thought that mars,

Of tender lines round a sensitive mouth,

Dark eyes that tell of the tropic South,

And midnight hair with sheen of stars.

I have a memory, still more sweet,

Of her face aglow with joy,

Of joy because she stands near me

Mon doux repose ! Ma chere cherie !

In our love there was no alloy.

I have a memory, passing sweet,

Of a dance that was Motion s rest ;