RONDEL.

THE Past, the Past, is all mine own;

That treasure none can filch away.

What though I walk in paths unknown

(Each morrow darker than the day);

Though not a single friendly ray

Pierce the thick cloud, but I alone

Be left to sorrow and dismay;

Though no new light illume my way,

The old light cannot fade away:

The Past, the Past, is all mine own.

Or if with her I love, I stray

(The days of darkness having flown)

Through sunny fields by generous May

With her best treasures thickly strewn,

Though lights as fair illume my way,

This light I will not cast away:

The Past, the Past, is all mine own!

E. C. P.