My spirit flew in feathers then
That is so heavy now,

And summer pools could hardly cool
The fever on my brow.

I remember, I remember

The fir trees dark and high;
I used to think their slender tops
Were close against the sky;
It was a childish ignorance,

But now 'tis little joy

To know I'm farther off from heaven
Than when I was a boy.

MARY'S DREAM.

BY JOHN LOWE.

John Lowe, the author of this poem, was born at Kenmure, parish of Kells, Kircudbrightshire, Scotland, in 1750. His father was a gardener, and at the age of 14 John was apprenticed to a weaver, but in 1771 he was enabled to go to the University of Edinburg. Later he entered the family of Mr. McGhie of Airds, whose house was located on an elevated piece of ground washed by the Dee and Ken, a spot reverenced by Lowe for its beauty. Within the grounds he erected a rural seat environed with honeysuckle, woodbine, and other shrubs, which is known to this day as "Lowe's Seat," and there he composed many of his most beautiful verses.

The moon had climbed the highest hill
That rises o'er the source of Dee,
And from the eastern summit shed
Her silver light on tower and tree;
When Mary laid her down to sleep,

Her thoughts on Sandy far at sea;
When, soft and low, a voice was heard,
Saying, "Mary, weep no more for me.”

She from her pillow gently raised

Her head to ask who there might be,
And saw young Sandy shivering stand,
With visage pale and hollow e'e.
"O, Mary dear, cold is my clay,
It lies beneath a stormy sea;
Far, far from thee I sleep in death,
So, Mary, weep no more for me.

Thomas William Parsons was born at Boston in 1818. He spent the greater part of his life in Europe. In 1867 he translated Dante's "Inferno." In 1854 he published, under the title "Ghetto di Roma," a collection of his poems. He died at Scituate, Mass., in 1892.

See, from his counterfeit of him.

Whom Arno shall remember long,
How stern of lineament, how grim,
The father was of Tuscan song!
There but the burning sense of wrong,
Perpetual care and scorn abide;
Small friendship for the lordly throng;
Distrust of all the world beside.