Those were youthful days; they are pass'd and gone;

And the fairy land is no more;
For the dream of life hath sped quickly on,

And boyhood's visions are o'er.

O would that the gush of the youthful heart

Would linger in riper years !
That its playful spirit would not depart,

In the hours of grief and tears!

THE CRYSTAL GEM.

BY W. H. LANCE.

This mystic gem thou gavest to me

I took it, prized it; could I deem, 'Twould falsehood e'er detect in thee,

Or change so soon my heart's fond dream.

So pure, so bright at first it shone,

It might have graced love's diadem; A cloud has gather'd o'er the stone,

Then take again the worthless gem.

No longer now its radiant beams

Shine bright as night-lamps o'er the sea; No longer now to me it seems

Love's beacon glittering beauteously.

O no! it tells of falsehood's chill,

Of fickle heart and broken vow;

Truth's light is past—hope's glowing thrill

Love's smile—nay, all have faded now!

And give me back the ardent kiss,

Which seal'd this heart so truly thine; For other lips have shared that bliss,

Which I believed was wholly mine.

I will not blame thy falsehood now,

I will not chide thy vows forgot; Yet look on this pale wither'd brow,

And read the grief which dieth not.