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And brings the hidden treasures forth

That lie in memory's store;
And again to thoughts of that voice gives birth-

That voice I shall hear no more.
No more!-it is not so my hope

Shall still be strong in Heaven-
Still search around the spacious scope

For peace and comfort given.
We know there is a world above,

Where all the blessed meet,
Where we shall gaze on those we love,

Around the Saviour's feet;
And I shall hear my sister's voice

In holier, purer tone-
With all those spotless souls rejoice,
Before the Eternal Throne.



“How much the wife is dearer than the bride."

Lord Lyttleton.

SHE stood beside him in the spring-tide hour
When Hymen lit with smiles the nuptial bow'r,
A downcast, trembling girl;-whose pulse was stirr'd
By the least murmur, like a frighten'd bird ;
Timid, and shrinking from each stranger's gaze,
And blushing when she heard the voice of praise,
She clung to him as some superior thing,
And soar'd aloft upon his stronger wing!
Now mark the change :-when storm-clouds gather

And man, creation's lord, before the blast

Shrinks like a parch'd scroll or with’ring leaf,
And turns revolting from the face of grief-
Sees foes who linger, fancied friends whes


fly-, Woman steps forth, and boldly braves the shock, Firm to his interests as the granite rock; SAE stems the wave, unshrinking meets the storm, And wears his guardian angel's earthly form! And if she cannot check the tempest's course, She points a shelter from its 'whelming force! When envy's sneer would coldly blight his name, And busy tongues are sporting with his fame, Who solves each doubt-clears every mist away, And makes him radiant in the face of day? She who would peril fortune, fame, and life, For man, the ingrate—THE DEVOTED WIFE.



-The Water-Lilies, that are serene in the calm clear water, but no less serene among the black and scrowling waves.-Lights and Shadows of Scottish Life.

OH! beautiful thou art,
Thou sculpture-like and stately River-Queen!
Crowning the depths, as with the light serene

Of a pure heart

Bright Lily of the wave! Rising in fearless grace with every swell, Thou seem'st as if a spirit meekly brave

Dwelt in thy cell:

Lifting alike thy head
Of placid beauty, feminine yet free,
Whether with foam or pictured azure spread

The waters be.

What is like thee, fair flower, The gentle and the firm ; thus bearing up To the blue sky that alabaster cup,

As to the shower?

Oh! Love is most like thee,
The Love of Woman; quivering to the blast
Through every nerve, yet rooted deep and fast,

'Midst Life's dark sea.

And Faith-oh! is not Faith Like thee, too, Lily? springing into light, Still buoyantly, above the billows' might,

Through the storm's breath?

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Yes, link'd with such high thoughts,
Flower, let thine image in my bosom lie!
Till something there of its own purity

And peace be wrought:

Something yet more divine Than the clear, pearly, virgin lustre shed Forth from thy breast upon the river's bed, As from a shrine.




HERE sleeps what once was beauty, once was grace;

Grace, that with tenderness and sense combined To form that harmony of soul and face,

Where beauty shines the mirror of the mind.

Such was the maid, that, in the morn of youth,

In virgin innocence, in nature's pride, Bless'd with each art that owes its charms to truth,

Sunk in her father's fond embrace, and died. He weeps; O venerate the holy tear!

Faith lends her aid to ease affliction's load ; The parent mourns his child upon the bier, The Christian yields an angel to his God.



WHETHER Stella's eyes are found
Fix'd on earth or glancing round,
If her face with pleasure glow,
If she sigh at others' woe,
If her easy air express
Conscious worth or soft distress,
Stella's eyes, and air, and face,
Charm with undiminish'd grace.
If on her we see display'd


and rich brocade;
If her chints with less expense
Flows in easy negligence;
Still she lights the conscious flame,
Still her charms appear the same:
If she strikes the vocal strings,
If she's silent, speaks, or sings,
If she sit, or if she move,
Still we love, and still approve.
Vain the casual, transient glance,
Which alone can please by chance,
Beauty which depends on art,
Changing with the changing heart,
Which demands the toilet's aid,
Pendent gems and rich brocade.

I those charms alone can prize
Which from constant nature rise,
Which nor circumstance nor dress
E'er can make or more or less.



COME take up your hats, and away let us haste
To the Butterfly's ball, and the Grasshopper's feast.
The trumpeter, Gad-fly, has summond the crew,
And the revels are now only waiting for you.

So said little Robert, and, pacing along,
His merry companions came forth in a throng,
And on the smooth grass, by the side of a wood,
Beneath a broad oak that for ages had stood,

Saw the children of earth, and the tenants of air,
For an evening's amusement together repair.
And there came the Beetle, so blind and so black,
Who carried the Emmet, his friend, on his back.

And there was the Gnat and the Dragon-fly too,
With all their relations, green, orange, and blue.
And there came the Moth, with his plumage of down,
And the Hornet in jacket of yellow and brown;

Who with him the Wasp, his companion, did bring,
But they promised that evening to lay by their sting.
And the sly little Dormouse crept out of his hole,
And brought to the feast his blind brother, the Mole.
And the Snail, with his horns peeping out of his shell,
Came from a great distance, the length of an ell.
A mushroom their table, and on it was laid
A water-dock leaf, which a table-cloth made

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