SISTER SAINT LUKE.
She lived shut in by flowers and trees
And shade of gentle bigotries.
On this side lay the trackless sea,
On that the great world's mystery;
But all unseen and all unguessed
They could not break upon her rest.
The world's far splendours gleamed and flashed,
Afar the wild seas foamed and dashed;
But in her small, dull Paradise,
Safe housed from rapture or surprise,
Nor day nor night had power to fright
The peace of God that filled her eyes.
NEW AND OLD.
MILES KEOGH'S HORSE.
On the bluff of the Little Big-Horn,
At the close of a woeful day,
Custer and his Three Hundred
In death and silence lay.
Three Hundred to Three Thousand!
They had bravely fought and bled;
For such is the will of Congress
When the White man meets the Red.
The White men are ten millions,
The thriftiest under the sun;
The Reds are fifty thousand,
And warriors every one.
So Custer and all his fighting-men
Lay under the evening skies,
Staring up at the tranquil heaven
With wide, accusing eyes.
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