Author . 
 
 .&.T 
 
 Title. 
 
 Imprint. 
 
 I»— 473T»-2 O»o 
 

 
 S:/7S,:jTrr,./.-r;.'.i.'j 
 
:.:yr7i^'^"^"^'i^":;-^-i 
 
 
 fsT^w-" "^^YTi 
 
 
 iRP. 
 
 ' ' ' ■ it >i '- " ■ *''" 
 
i\j: 
 
 - 2ja)^ffi^&2£rtf 
 
 \iL>«j.ki**»ti-. . 
 
 V.! 3 (h< lT *<i J &k» jiJL<. >.xrAi\\^ 
 
 
 i:5 
 
 
 l!^ 
 
 
 •r 
 
 ^■■BW^Pff WT;; (jiify (W^wi^r^PT^T^ 
 
 •y'?'?*Vi;.w,(.<|,l> ^", W p;';! , W i r',^ , ^i^ iJW,,v^'; '^•, 
 
 I- 
 

 4 
 I 
 
 
 m 
 
 W/ 
 
 
 
 1:5*.. 
 
r'lr. 
 
 iSfi** 4^ ■ li • 1} . :LiLi^ 
 
 -.^ivaWSu 
 
 '.MAV 1 i;LAl„il iiiAi i'LKLai Hi^AVtiN 
 
 
 i: 
 
 8 
 
 
 ■"')fc'::V ! ^y! - au«,4 ! ),A^« ' ^5 .»,^^.^,^ yy 
 
'Jik 
 
 i J 
 
 1 
 
 ■ J 
 
 '-^¥F^W^^^^ 
 
 
T 
 
 
 ^^'--^Tiiiiitirtii;' 
 
 lL^^ii^^J^v^V4i*ivy:>;iliiLui. . 
 
 'H,r 
 
 yj 
 
 MAY I JOIN 
 HE CHOIR LWISIBLE 
 
 gi-:or(;k icliot 
 
 AND OIHKR lAVoKlTK I'OKMS 
 
 'r'i 
 
 
 ILLUSTRAIED 
 
 
 I DEC r/ '^884;/! 
 
 BOSTON 
 D . L O r H R O r A X D C O M P .A \ \- 
 
 l-KAXKI.IN AND HAWLEY STREETS 
 
 .t. » 
 
 b 
 
 
rix' 
 
 .0 ■ 
 
 Cnpyrtj^Iit by 
 D. LoTiiROp AND Company 
 
 
 V 7?^^:^?^7^x ;>r::^^:^^^io^w^^vrr 
 
 r,fc tr vv, «' 
 

 r? 
 
 MAY T JOIN tup: CEIOIR INVISIBLE! Jt' 
 
 OMAY I join the choir iiivi.siblo *•.' ' 
 
 Of those iiinnortal dead who live again y- * 
 
 In minds made better l)y their ])resence ; live r ' 
 
 In pulses stirred to generosity, f[^ 
 In deeds of daring rectitude, in scorn 
 Of miserable aims that end with self 
 In thoughts sublime that pierce the night like stars, l - ^ 
 
 And with their mild persistence urge men's minds '^'*, 
 To vaster issues. , , 
 
 So to live is heaven 
 
 To make undying music in the world. t' 
 
 Breathing a beauteous order that controls i^^ 
 
 pi- • 
 With growing sway the growing life of man. Al^ 
 
 So we inherit that sweet purity 
 
 For which we struggled, failed and agonized 
 
 With widening retrospect that bred despair. 
 
 Rebellious flesh that would not be subdued, 
 
 A vicious parent shaming still its child, 
 
 Poor, anxious penitence is quick dissolved; j. 
 
 ^{ 
 
 .!^' 
 
 )\ 
 
 
 
 
MA y I JOIX THE CHOIR IM'ISIBLE ! 
 
 
 Its discords, quenched by meeting harmonies. 
 
 Die in the large and charitable air ; 
 
 And all our rarer, better, truer self, 
 
 That sobbed religiou.-^ly in yearning song. 
 
 That watched to ease the burden of the world, 
 
 Laboriously tracing what must be. 
 
 And what may yet bo better — saw rather 
 
 A worthier image for the sanctuary 
 
 And shaped it forth before the nudtitude. 
 
 Divinely human, raising worship so 
 
 To higher reverence more mixed with love — 
 
 That better self shall live till human Time 
 
 Shall fold its eyelids, and the human sky 
 
 Be gathered like a scroll within the tomb 
 
 Unread forever. 
 
 
 This is life to come. 
 "Which martyred men have made more glorious 
 For us who strive to follow. 
 
 May I reach 
 That pui'est lieaven — be to other souls 
 The cup of strength in some great agony, 
 Enkindle generous ardor, feed pure love, 
 
 
I* ^■^ * \t^ 
 
 
 .... r . . 
 
 O MAY I JOIN THE CHOIR IX VISIBLE! 
 
 Beget the smiles that hav(! no cruelty. 
 Be the s^veet presence of a good diffused. 
 And in diffusion ever more intense I 
 So shall I join the choir invisible 
 Whose music is the sladness of the world. 
 
 1^ 
 
 I*' 
 
 f 
 
 
 ' - 
 
 ■•T" 
 
 
"' iV/jlk' 
 
 ..■. i 
 
 »:» 
 
 j,< 
 
 H(3\Y THEY BROUGHT THE GOOD NEWS 
 FROM GHENT TO AIX. 
 
 I SPRANG to the .stirnip. and Joris and he : 
 I galloped, Dirck galloped, we galloped all three ; 
 ••Good speed!" cried the watch as the gate-bolts 
 
 undrew, 
 " Speed ! " echoed the wall to us galloping through. 
 Behind shut the postern, the lights sank to rest, 
 And into the midnight we galloped abi-east. 
 
 4 
 
 Not a word to each (jther ; we kejit the great pace — 
 Neck by neck, stride by stride, never changing our 
 
 place ; 
 I turned in niv saddle and made its girths tight, 
 Then shortened each stirrup and set the pique right, 
 Rebuckled the check-strap, c^hained slacker the bit. 
 Nor galloped less steadily Roland a whit. 
 
 'Twas moonset at starting; but while we drew near 
 Lokeren. the cocks crew and twilight dawned clear; 
 At Boom a great vellow star came out to see ; 
 
 j.^;^ 
 
 rr:z:-z;:^ 
 
l^ ii y w ^i.ALa5rtftofe<<36fefes3& ^^I^T < k. ^^ ^ ^ I I uT i ' i l' i \ i twi iii ' i> 1 i ' li il i iLtM m . V 
 
 
 If 
 
 AT AEKbi-Hul Lr LLA] Lb ui A iLDDEN THE SUN. 
 
 
 I 
 
 
 *Kj» * *^ _ 
 
• A. 
 
 
 ■7 r^-«-\.-^>iV 
 
 ■^T^r 
 
 

 HOW THEY BROUGHT THE GOOD XEWS. 
 
 At Diirt'eld 'twas moniing as plain as coukl be; 
 And from Mecheln church-steeple we heard the half- 
 chime — 
 So Joris broke silence with " Yet there is time ! " 
 
 
 5:' 
 
 At Aerschot up leaped of a sudden the sun, 
 
 And against him the cattle stood black e\er3- one, 
 
 To stare through the mist at us galloping ))ast; 
 
 And I saw my stout galloper Roland at last 
 
 With resolute shoulders, each butting awa\- 
 
 The haze, as some bluff river headland its spra\- ; 
 
 And his low head and crest, just one sharp ear 
 
 bent back 
 For my voice, and ihe other pricked out on his track, 
 And one eye's black intelligence — ever that glance 
 O'er its white edge at me. his own master, askance ; 
 And the thick heavy spume-Hakes, which aye and 
 
 anon 
 His fierce lips shook upwards in galloping on. 
 
 L * 
 
 irr- 
 
 i 
 
 By Hasselt, Dirck groaned ; and cried Joris, '• Stay 
 
 spur ! 
 Your Roos galloped liravoly. the fault's not in her ; 
 ^Ve'll remember at Aix " — for one heard the quick 
 
 wheeze 
 
 IE 
 
 1>; 
 
 *j jv 
 

 HOW THEY BROUGHT THE GOOD NEWS. 
 
 Of her chest, saw the stretched neck and staggering 
 
 knees, 
 And snnk tail, and horrible heave of the ilank. 
 As down on her haunches she shuddered and sank. 
 
 ■ S. 
 
 So we were left galloping, Joris and I, 
 Past Looz and past Tongres, no cloud in the sky; 
 The broad sun above laughed a pitiless laugh ; 
 'Neath our feet broke the brittle bright stubble like 
 
 chaff ; 
 Till over by Delheni a dome spire sprung white, 
 And " Gallop," gasped Jons, " for Aix is in sight ! 
 
 " How they'll greet us ! " — and all in a moment 
 
 his roan 
 Rolled neck and croup over, lay dead as a stone ; 
 And there was ni}' Roland to bear the whole weight 
 Of the news which alone could save Aix from her 
 
 fate, 
 With his nostrils like pits full of blood to the brim. 
 And with circles of red for his eye-sockets' rim. 
 
 Then I cast loose my buff-coat, each holster let fall. 
 Shook off both my jack-boots, let go belt and all, 
 Stood up in the stirrup, leaned, patted his ear. 
 Called my Roland his pet name, my horse without 
 peer — 
 
 \*T*»^':*J 
 
vL 
 
 ^ 4;.^-U^aj.>aL^<SitAkifa^^ M^ 
 
 //Oir rilEY BROUGHT THE GOOD NEWS. 
 
 CIai)ped my hands, laughed and sung, any noise, 
 
 Ijad or good, 
 Till at length into Aix Ivoland galloped and stood. 
 
 itri • 
 
 And all 1 remember is friends Hocking around, 
 
 As I sate with his head twixt my knees on the 
 
 ground ; 
 And no voice l)ut was praising this Roland of mine 
 As I poured down his throat our last measure of 
 
 wine. 
 Which (the burgesses voted l)y common consent) 
 Mas no more than his due who brought good news 
 
 from Ghent. 
 
 > 
 
 I ( 
 
 !. ■ 
 
 IE 
 
 ' * ■ 
 
 '^'A-v 
 
 jir,;»» 
 
> J • 
 
 MOTHER AND POET. 
 
 EAD ! one of tlieiii j^liot by the sea in the east, 
 And one of them shot in tlu- west bv the sea. 
 
 D 
 
 ) Dead! both ni}' boys! When you sit at tlie feast 
 
 ; And are wanting a great song for Italy free, 
 
 i Let none look at V2e' 
 
 Yet I was a poetess only last year. 
 
 And good at luy art for a woman, men said. 
 But iJds woman, t/iis. who is agonized lu'i'c 
 
 The east sea and west sea rhyme on in her head 
 Forever instead. 
 
 What art can woman be good at ? Oh. vain ! 
 
 What art /*■ she good at, but hurting her breast 
 With the milk-teeth of babes, and a smile at the 
 pain ■' 
 Ah, boys, how you hurt ! you were strong as 
 you pressed. 
 
 And / proud b^- that test. 
 
 -7^7'^.'*^^^ ■ -''^•rT-^-^'-»rT:-^r:sng:- 
 
'r4\ J* j*d ,* '^ ' Y'y'^'' ' .^ 
 
 f 'c 
 
 MOTHER AM) POET. 
 
 Wliat'.s art for a ■woman ? To liold on her knees 
 Both darHngs ! to I'l'fl all lliuir arms round her 
 throat 
 Cling, strangle a little I To sew by degrees, 
 
 And "broidcr the long clothes and neat little coat ! 
 To theam and to dote. 
 
 
 
 To teach them . . . Tt stings there. I made them 
 indeed 
 Speak ])lain the word ■'country.' 1 taught them, 
 no doul)t. 
 That a country's a thing men should die for at need. 
 / prated of liberty, rights, and about 
 The tyrant turned out. 
 
 1 1 \ 
 
 And when their eyes Hashed, oh. my beautiful eyes ! 
 
 I exulted ! nay, let them go forth at the wheels 
 'Of the guns, and denied not. But then the surprise. 
 When one sits quite alone I Then one weeps, then 
 one kneels ! 
 
 — God I how the house feels. 
 
 At first happy news came, in gay letters moiled 
 With my kisses, of camp-life and glory, and how 
 
 ■(:♦ 
 
 IK 
 
 n 
 
 '^a^-rz'^rvr^ 
 
MOTHER AND POET. 
 
 , J 
 
 Tliey botli loved rae, and soon, coming home to be 
 spoiled. 
 In return would fan off every fly from my brow 
 With their green laurel bough. 
 
 
 Then was triunijih at Turin. • Ancona was free!' 
 And some one came out of the cheers in the street, 
 
 M ith a face pale as stone to say souiothing to me. 
 My Gnido was dead I 1 fell down at his feet 
 While thev cheered in the street. 
 
 I bore it — friends soothed me: my grief looked 
 sublime 
 As the ransom of Ita\v. One boy remained 
 To be leant on and walked with, recalling the time 
 When the iirst grew immortal, while both of us 
 strained 
 
 To the heiirht he had gained. 
 
 * -r 
 
 And letters still came — sh.orter. sadder, more strong. 
 
 Writ now but in one hand. I was not to faint. 
 One loved me for two . . . would be with me ere 
 long. 
 And * Viva Italia ' lie died for, onr saint. 
 Who forbids our complaint. 
 
 
 -■^^rwrvrw^'^'-lthWrW 
 
^W.' 
 
 I ■ I ■ J ' • - '^ 
 
 ■•^■t- 
 
 K.M.. ..:>r. Oh THi.M ,>iiwr ii-i 1111. ,-i.v i\ nil. i,\.-i, 
 AND ONE OK THEM Sllol' IN THE WEST BY THE SEA. 
 
 J/^ 
 
 i:^' 
 
 
 
 
 I 
 
 (ft 
 
 
^^ 
 
 I 
 
 
 

 » \^ilt\ *iixi i:»iAij-c»ir.vr.TiT?T-A r^ Ar^-ftnT^^T^ ■>■ 
 
 MOTHER AND POET. 
 
 My Nanni would add. "lie was safe and aware fj^j 
 
 Of a presence tliat turned oif the l)alls . . .was f, ^' 
 
 imprest ^'. 
 
 It was (iiiido hiniself. wlio knew what I could bear, W\ 
 
 And how 'twas impossible, (piite dispossessed, f^^' 
 
 To live on for the rest.' It -** 
 
 \- 
 
 On which, without pause, up the telegrajjli line. |'- ' 
 
 Swept smoothly the next news from Gaeta — i<}ii)t. r'_ 
 
 7'ell his muthcr. Ah, ah I -his.' 'their' mother: not Vil 
 
 . • ' J^ -^ 
 
 nnne F/^ , 
 
 No voice says •' m>/ mother ' again to me. What I ^i- 1 
 
 You think (iuido fortrot ? ft-*/ 
 
 /^' 
 
 Are souls straight so happy that, dizzy with Heaven, (.''f 
 
 They drop earth's affection, conceive not of woe? *iv 
 
 I think not. Themselves were too lately forgiven '^^r 
 
 Tiirough that Love and Sorrow which reconciled so '^(T* 
 • The Aljove and Below. i.' 
 
 Chri.st of the seven wounds, who louk'dst through ,/■«'' 
 
 the dark \t^ 
 
 To the face of thy mother I consider. I prav. li^ 
 
 How we common mothers stand desolate, mark, 1^'' 
 
 Wliose sons, not l)eing Christs, die with eyes )^-^ 
 
 turned awa}-, 
 
 And no last word to say! ,, 
 
 via? ' .t ^ • 
 
m 
 
 MOIIU-R AXn POET. 
 
 r.oth hoys (lead I but that's out of luitnre. We all 
 Have h.'L.n patriots, yet each liouse must always 
 keep one. 
 "l\veiv huheeile liewhi- out voacls to a wall, 
 
 Au,l uheu Italy's lua.le. h.r what end is it (lone 
 11' we have not a son? 
 
 Ah ! ah I ah 1 when (lacta's taken, what then ? 
 
 \Yhen the fair, wieked .pieen sits no more at her 
 s})( irt 
 Of the lire-halls of deaih .•rashin-' souls oat of men? 
 When your guns of Cavalli. with linal retort. 
 Have cut the game short — 
 
 AVheu Venice and Hom(> keep their new juhilee. 
 When your Hag takes all Heaven for its white, 
 green, and rc(l. 
 ^Yl„,„ ,,^,„ have your e.uu.try from mountain to sea, 
 When King WvUn- has Italy's crown uu his head, 
 (And I have my dead) 
 
 What then? Do not nmck me! Ah. ring your 
 hells low! 
 And hum ycnn- lights faintly. Mn country is there. 
 Above the star pricked by tlie last p.ak of snow. 
 My Italy's there — with my brave civic Pair, 
 To disfranchise despair. 
 
 
r 
 
 ^^1 . ^^^ « ^^^^ t . 1 1*. t vu^i ?ix&TkiXkYr«2r 
 
 *r*-,A,*.-.- 
 
 MOTHER AXD POET. 
 
 Forgive me. Some women bear ehildreii in strength, 
 And bite I)ack the cry of their iiaiu in self-scorn, 
 
 But tlie birtli-pangs of nations will wring us at lenutli 
 Into wail such as this ! and we sit on forlorn 
 When the man-child is born. 
 
 Dead ! one of them shot by the sea in the west 1 
 And one of them shot in the east by the sea 1 
 
 Both! both my boys! If, in keeping the feast, 
 You want a great song for your Itah^ free, 
 Let none look at me. ! 
 
 .1 ♦ 
 
 '3- 
 
 L-i" 
 

 ^' 
 
 
 NATURE'S LADY. 
 
 I 
 
 THREE years she grew in sun and shower, 
 Then Nature said, " A lovelier tiower 
 On ea-rth was never sown ; 
 This child I to myself will take. 
 She shall he mine, and 1 Avill make 
 A lady of my own. 
 
 " Myself will to my darling be 
 
 Both law and impulse : and with me 
 
 The Girl, in rock and plain. 
 
 In earth and heaven, in glade and bower. 
 
 Shall feel an overseeing power 
 
 To kindle or restrain. 
 
 '• She shall l.)e sportive as the fawn 
 That wild with glei' across the lawn 
 {)v up the mountain springs ; 
 And hers shall be the breathing balm, 
 And hers the silcnei- and the calm, 
 Of mute insensate things. 
 
 '_ ^.' ^' triTjl t I^TTi i )^^ , i^P; , r^ 
 
 
r 
 
 
 k<A_*»^-.A.K,.\,K>.i.*NA,ll,A.»,.\,l^ l.*-\ 
 
 SHE SHALL BE SPORTIVE AS THE lAWN. 
 
 
 I' 
 
 I: 
 
 t 
 
 
 ■ at 
 
 
^^^f!l| 
 
 1 
 « 1 
 *. -i 
 
 ♦ "i 
 
 

 •.. rut.rii*. fv.f.. *'.«... •i>..,vf... ■.-►.. -!•».. .v^. A.,'. A. >...(. 
 
 NATURE'S LADY. 
 
 '• The floating clouds their ^tate shall lend 
 
 To her ; tor her the willows bend ; 
 
 Nor shall she fail to see 
 
 Even in the motions of the storm 
 
 Grace that shall mould the maiden's form 
 
 By silent sympathy. 
 
 " The stars of midnight shall l^e dear 
 
 To her; and she shall lean her ear 
 
 In many a secret place 
 
 Where rivulets dance their waywai-d lound. 
 
 And beauty bom of nnu'muring somid 
 
 Shall pass into her face." 
 
 IS* 
 
 
*l 
 
 TO A SKYLARK. 
 
 HAIL to thee, blithe spirit — 
 Bird thou never wert — 
 That from heaven or near it 
 Pourest thy full heart 
 Li profuse strains of unpremeditated art. 
 
 Higher still and higher 
 
 From the earth thou springest, 
 
 Like a. cloud of fire; 
 
 The blue deep thou wiugest, 
 And singing still dost soar, and soaring ever sing- 
 
 est. 
 
 In the golden lightning 
 
 Of the sunken sun. 
 O'er which clouds art bright'ning, 
 Thou dost float and run, 
 Like an unbodied joy whose race is just begun. 
 
 
WT' 
 
 
 
 70 A SKYLARK. 
 
 The ])a]e purple even 
 
 Melts aruund thy (light ; 
 Like a star of heaven, 
 
 In the broad daylight 
 Thou art unseen, but yet I hear thy shrill delight — 
 
 Keen as are the arrows 
 
 Of that silver sphere 
 Whose intense lamp narrows 
 
 Tn the white dawn clear 
 T'ntil WQ hardly see, we feel, that it is there. 
 
 All the earth and air 
 
 With thy voice is loud. 
 As, when night is bare. 
 
 From one lonely chjud 
 The moon rains out her beams, and heaven is 
 overflowed. 
 
 "Wliat thou art we know not ; 
 
 What is most like thee ? 
 From rainbow-clouds there flow not 
 
 Drops so Ijriglit to see 
 As from thy presence showers a rain of melody : — 
 
 
I J 
 
 TO A SKYLARK. 
 
 1 ,i 
 
 I 
 
 Like a poet hidden 
 
 In the light of thought, 
 Singing hj-nnis unbidden. 
 
 Till the world is wrought 
 To sympathy with hopes and fears it heeded not ; 
 
 Like a high-born maiden 
 
 In a palace tower, 
 Soothing her love-laden 
 
 Soul in secret liour 
 With nuisic sweet as love which overflows her bower 
 
 ! \ 
 
 Like a glow-worm golden 
 
 Li a dell of dew. 
 Scattering unbeholden 
 
 Its aerial hue 
 Among the flowers and grass which screen it from 
 the view ; 
 
 ■■♦ - 
 
 Like a rose embowered 
 
 In its own green leaves, 
 .By warm winds deflowered, 
 Till the scent it gives 
 Makes faint with too much heat these heavy-winged 
 thieves ; 
 
 .¥' 
 
 
 Ai 
 
-^ '«.. '^ ' "'^ ' 'i^ ' T^i p<*- ^^ ■* ' . 
 
 * . -..*. .».'>. .-^ .•'.% . 
 
 V; ; 
 
 THOU ART UKSliEN, 13UT VET I lltAK TllV SHRILL DELICHT. 
 
 
 i:» 
 
 l'< 
 
 If. 
 
 ' 0- 
 
 If . 
 I 
 
) J 
 
 TO A SKYLARK. 
 
 : J 
 
 1 ,' 
 
 I 
 
 Sound of vernal showers 
 
 On the twhikling grass, 
 Rain-awakened tlowcrs — 
 All that ever was 
 Joyous and clear and fresh — thy music doth surpas 
 
 Teach us. sprite or bird. 
 
 What sweet thoughts are thine: 
 I have never heard 
 
 Praise of love or wint» 
 That panted forth a Hood of rapture so divine. 
 
 Chorus hymeneal, 
 
 Or triumjilial chaunt. 
 Matched with thine, would be all 
 
 But an empty vaunt — 
 A thiniT wherein we feel there is some hidden want. 
 
 Li 
 
 
 What oljjects are the fotuitains 
 
 Of the hapjiy strain ? 
 What lields. or waves or mountains ? 
 
 What sjiapes of sky or plain '? 
 What love of thine own kind ? wliat ignorance of 
 pain ? 
 
'jt-ild^Lti-iLtLtiktsi:^^;'*- 
 
 *.TvA.-=i*;.*.^. 
 
 -S'' 
 
 TO A SKYLARK. 
 
 With thy clear keen joyance 
 
 Languor cannot be : 
 Shadow of annoyance 
 Never came near thee: 
 Thou lovest, but ne'er knew love's sad satiety. 
 
 Waking or asleep, 
 
 Thou of death nuist deem 
 Things more true and deep 
 
 Than Ave mortals dream. 
 Or how could lliy notes How in such a crystal 
 stream ? 
 
 Ki 
 
 
 .<:< 
 
 'i;* 
 
 !:<:* 
 
 y~* 
 
 We look before and after, 
 
 And pine for what is not ; 
 Our sincerest laughter 
 
 With some pain is frauuht ; 
 Our sweetest songs are those tiiat tell of saddest 
 thought. 
 
 Yet. if we could scorn 
 
 Hate and pride and fear, 
 If we were things l)orn 
 \ot to shod a tear. 
 I know not how thy joy we ever should come near. 
 
 r. ' 
 ■»*♦ 
 
 i* 
 
 

 TO A SKYLARK. 
 
 Better than all measures 
 
 Of delightful sound, 
 Better than all treasures 
 That in liouks are found, 
 Thy skill to poet were, thou seorner of the 
 1 ground ! 
 
 I 
 
 ' Teach me half the gladness 
 
 -' That thy hrain must know, 
 
 Such harmonious madness 
 From my liyis would flow 
 "A The world should listen then as 1 am listening 
 
 now. 
 
 6. 
 
 
 >■ ' ' J <jl 
 
 L^ 
 

 J.' 
 
 L ( 
 
 
 1. ' 
 
 I' 
 
 !:^ 
 ,'-i 
 
 4^ «:jK.,#.,)ip;,.«i»i..^..'jf^.. a; 
 
 
 

 '?^ 
 
 
 l-}*^i(\- 
 
 v; V'' ^^'. ^; *j.^; v.'.tA';??:'*F;.#'^^^\^' ^'"t-vf-^ ^ 
 
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 
 
 014 490 746 2