T is the " Yesterdays " that show us

All the eras of our lives,
Spinning out the half-wrought fabric

With the thread of what survives.
" Yesterdays " show but too plainly
All the joys that might have been ;

Where we lost our place, in telling
The heart-story, from within.
All the future seems a dreamland
When we waken in To-day,

And To-day's too near for weighing
Drift of deeds and words, we say ;

But the " Yesterdays " will gather
Scattered pages as they fall,

And the tale our lives are telling
Grows from treasuring them all.
ALLEGRO-MAESTRO. 13

SABBATH BELLS.
[ARK ! I hear the murmuring of bells —
Distant bells that pulse the city's heart !
Silvery throb from hill to hill that tells,
What their wordless messages impart !
Murmuring Bells !

List ! The many voices rise and fall
With a resonance that fills all space,

Many-toned, yet blending, each with all,
Till sonorous echoes reach this place.
Chiming Bells !

Wherefore should my heart respond so fast

To this far-off music of the bells ?
Is it that they whisper of the past ?

Can it be hope's voice that still foretells ?
O ye Bells !



THE WANDERER.
JNE morning, when all earth was bright,
A boy set out in glad delight
To find the road to wealth and fame,
And on earth's records set his name.
On either side an Angel stood :
One whispered evil, one was good.
One lured him down each flowery track,
The other gently led him back.
14 ALLEGRO-MAESTRO,

For in the road his feet must take
Lay rocks and briers ; and many a break
Showed two paths leading to his goal —
One bright to tempt his doubting soul.
