POETRY.
DREAM-BALLAD.
LAST night as I was in my bed An old friend came and spoke to me He said just what be might have said, And was just as he used to be.
He did not greet me with surprise, He hardly gave me any greeting; And I remember I likewise Was not astonished at the meeting.
He told me things that he had done, And talked of things he hoped to do; And as of old, for every one I gave him confidences two.
His pleasant tricks of face and phrase I welcomed like an old refrain; I was well pleased with his dear ways, And glad to have his smile again.
Then we recounted each to each Old memories that were mine and his ; We passed the night with gentle speech And many reminiscences.
He went : the morning twinkled dim ; I woke, and lay a while abed Thinking what I would say to him.
Then I remembered be was dead.
ARCHIBALD Y. CAMPBELL
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