THE CLOCK'S SONG.

By Rose Hawthorne Lathrop

Eileen of four,

Eileen of smiles;

Eileen of five,

Eileen of tears;

Eileen of ten, of fifteen years,

Eileen of youth

And woman's wiles;

Eileen of twenty,

In love's land,

Eileen all tender

In her bliss,

Untouched by sorrow's treacherous kiss,

And the sly weapon in life's hand,—

Eileen aroused to share all fate,

Eileen a wife,

Pale, beautiful,

Eileen most grave

And dutiful,

Mourning her dreams in queenly state.

Eileen! Eileen!....