THE LIGHT-HOUSE.

At twilight, past the fountain,

I wandered in the park,

And saw a closed white lily

Sway on the liquid dark;

And a fire-fly, perched upon it,

Shone out its fitful spark.

I fancied it a light-house

Mooned on a sky-like sea,

To warn the fearless sailors

Of lurking treachery —

Of unseen reefs and shallows

That starved for wrecks to be.

O Blanche, O love that spurns me,

‘ Tis but a cheat thou art.

I would some friendly light-house

Had warned me to depart

From the secret reefs and shallows

That hide about your heart.