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  As for wealth we set a wish,   Dwelt a king by right divine,   Sprung from Adam's royal line,   Town of Dae by the sea,   Divers kinds of kings there be.   Name nor fame had Picklepip:   Ne'er a soldier nor a ship   Bore his banners in the sun;   Naught knew he of kingly sport,   And he held his royal court   Under an inverted tun.   Love and roses, ages through,   Bloom where cot and trellis stand;   Never yet these blossoms grew—   Never yet was room for two—     In a cask upon the strand.   So it happened, as it ought,   That his simple schemes he wrought   Through the lagging summer's day   In a solitary way.   So it happened, as was best,   That he took his nightly rest     With no dreadful incubus   This way eyed and that way tressed,     Featured thus, and thus, and thus,   Lying lead-like on a breast   By cares of State enough oppressed.   Yet in dreams his fancies rude   Claimed a lordly latitude.   Town of Dae by the sea,   Dreamers mate above their state   And waken back to their degree.   Once to cask himself away   He prepared at close of day.   As he tugged with swelling throat   At a most unkingly coat—   Not to get it off, but on,   For the serving sun was gone—   Passed a silk-appareled sprite   Toward her castle on the height,   Seized and set the garment right.   Turned the startled Picklepip—   Splendid crimson cheek and lip!   Turned again to sneak away,   But she bade the villain stay,   Bade him thank her, which he did   With a speech that slipped and slid,   Sprawled and stumbled in its gait   As a dancer tries to skate.     Town of Dae by the sea,   In the face of silk and lace     Rags too bold should never be.   Lady Minnow cocked her head:   "Mister Picklepip," she said,   "Do you ever think to wed?"     Town of Dae by the sea,   No fair lady ever made a     Wicked speech like that to me!   Wretched little Picklepip   Said he hadn't any ship,   Any flocks at his command,   Nor to feed them any land;   Said he never in his life   Owned a mine to keep a wife.   But the guilty stammer so   That his meaning wouldn't flow;   So he thought his aim to reach   By some figurative speech:   Said his Fate had been unkind   Had pursued him from behind     (How the mischief could it else?)   Came upon him unaware,   Caught him by the collar—there   Gushed the little lady's glee     Like a gush of golden bells:   "Picklepip, why, that is me!"     Town of Dae by the sea,   Grammar's for great scholars—she     Loved the summer and the lea.   Stupid little Picklepip   Allowed the subtle hint to slip—   Maundered on about the ship   That he did not chance to own;     Told this grievance o'er and o'er,     Knowing that she knew before;   Told her how he dwelt alone.   Lady Minnow, for reply,   Cut him off with "So do I!"   But she reddened at the fib;   Servitors had she, ad lib.     Town of Dae by the sea,   In her youth who speaks no truth     Ne'er shall young and honest be.   Witless little Picklepip   Manned again his mental ship   And veered her with a sudden shift.     Painted to the lady's thought     How he wrestled and he wrought   Stoutly with the swimming drift     By the kindly river brought   From the mountain to the sea,   Fuel for the town of Dae.   Tedious tale for lady's ear:     From her castle on the height,     She had watched her water-knight   Through the seasons of a year,   Challenge more than met his view   And conquer better than he knew.   Now she shook her pretty pate   And stamped her foot—'t was growing late:   "Mister Picklepip, when I   Drifting seaward pass you by;   When the waves my forehead kiss     And my tresses float above—     Dead and drowned for lack of love—   You'll be sorry, sir, for this!"   And the silly creature cried—   Feared, perchance, the rising tide.     Town of Dae by the sea,   Madam Adam, when she had 'em,     May have been as bad as she.   Fiat lux! Love's lumination   Fell in floods of revelation!   Blinded brain by world aglare,   Sense of pulses in the air,   Sense of swooning and the beating   Of a voice somewhere repeating   Something indistinctly heard!     And the soul of Picklepip     Sprang upon his trembling lip,   But he spake no further word   Of the wealth he did not own;   In that moment had outgrown   Ship and mine and flock and land—   Even his cask upon the strand.   Dropped a stricken star to earth,   Type of wealth and worldly worth.   Clomb the moon into the sky,   Type of love's immensity!   Shaking silver seemed the sea,   Throne of God the town of Dae!     Town of Dae by the sea,   From above there cometh love,     Blessing all good souls that be.

AN ANARCHIST.

  False to his art and to the high command   God laid upon him, Markham's rebel hand   Beats all in vain the harp he touched before:   It yields a jingle and it yields no more.   No more the strings beneath his finger-tips   Sing harmonies divine. No more his lips,   Touched with a living coal from sacred fires,   Lead the sweet chorus of the golden wires.   The voice is raucous and the phrases squeak;   They labor, they complain, they sweat, they reek!   The more the wayward, disobedient song   Errs from the right to celebrate the wrong,   More diligently still the singer strums,   To drown the horrid sound, with all his thumbs.   Gods, what a spectacle! The angels lean   Out of high Heaven to view the sorry scene,   And Israfel, "whose heart-strings are a lute,"   Though now compassion makes their music mute,   Among the weeping company appears,   Pearls in his eyes and cotton in his ears.

AN OFFER OF MARRIAGE.