Gypsy Verses. Whitney Helen Hay

harbour lights! but where the moon

      Should murmur blessings bright,

      Clouded instead the dread typhoon,

      That thundered down the night.

      What curse the luring harbour bore

      Of false security;

      The port held desolation more

      Than boasted all the sea.

      When morning came with leering lip,

      What death lay on her breast,

      And oh! the little weary ship

      Was wrecked with all the rest.

      SONNY BOY

(A bust by H. F.)

      Grave as a little god, erect and wise,

      He dares the years that open to his gaze.

      Brave in his charming beauty, he portrays

      A bright eternal youth, and in his eyes

      Sweet moons that are no more. No sad surprise