THE MIDNIGHT VISITOR.

I sat and pondered in my room that night

Until the towers and steeples, near and far,

Like sentries of the sky, issued the hour

Of midnight. Then I wrought magnetic force

With waving hands; and set my swerveless will

That Veera should approach me, and that none

Should harm or see her as she passed the streets.

At last I heard her footstep on the stair —

The patter of her feet as soft as rain,

And then she turned the hinge and entered in.

A long white wrapper made of satin, bound

With lace of gold, and fastened at the throat

With buttons of cut diamond, clad her form.

A band of opals was around her neck —

A hundred little worlds with central fires.

Her feet were naked, and her hair was down.

Her large eyes, wide and staring, took no heed

Of anything before them; thus she slept.

I bade her sit beside me, and I placed

The Bible on her knee, and laid her hand

Upon the verse that names the tree of life.

“Tell me,” I said, “where may this tree be found.”

“The way is long,” she answered me at last,

“And I am worn and weary. I have tracked

The shore of one long river, many a mile.

The sun scorches like fire. I am athirst.

I cannot find the tree; my search is done.”

“Look down the past, and find if any knew

Where grows this tree, or how it might be found.”

Again her lips made answer: “One I see,

Long dead, who bends above a written scroll,

And therein makes strange characters, which hold

Some hidden sense pertaining to this tree.

In Milan, in the Ambrosian library there,

I see this scroll to-night;‘ tis worn with age.”

“Now seek thy home again,” I said, “sweet soul.

Thou art as meek and pure as him whose hand

First wrote God's words.” So she arose, and passed

Along the dark, deserted street, and I

Followed her closely, till I saw her cross

The threshold of her cottage; then I turned,

And found my home, and calmly slept till dawn.