The Argosy — page 168: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

Baby Helene. 155 Years went—seven years with their story, More bright than Aladdin’s of old, To love and be loved was our glory, Our hearts were our castles of gold. But broken our castles, and falling, Hope crushed—true hearts bleeding and slain, God’s angels in Heaven were calling Our Baby Helene. Dim-eyed, and heart-broken, we waited The sounds of invisible things, While the soul of our soul was re-mated, Borne off on invisible wings. In the far away purple and golden, Went up an ineffable strain, : And the far-away gates were unfolden To Baby Helene. One moment, God’s earth and its brightness Seemed darkened and turned into dross, And the manifold stars and their lightness, Were dimmed and as nothing to us. For the bowl that was golden was broken, The hearts that were one heart, were twain, And the last words of love had been spoken By Baby Helene. Ah! seven years gone as the dream goes, Oh! baby love, lost to our ken, Will the brooklet still flow where the stream flows? Will the lilies still blossom as then ? Will the sweet tongues of birds be unloosed to The songs of our love and its pain ? Will the violets bloom as they used to For Baby Heléne ? Oh! baby love, heart-sweet, the sunlight That fell on the way that you went, Shall be to our feet as the one light, The lamp the sweet angels have lent. And the nights and the days shall be lighter, And the ways that were dark ways be plain, And the stars where thou art shall be brighter For Baby Heléne. CONNIE LOOKS. EOLA