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We linger o'er the phantom past,

With back-turned heart and eye,
And shudder at the shadows cast

By all that has gone by.
And tracing memories, sad and grave,
That first were writ in pain,

6 We will not be the slaves
Of aught so false again.”
So year by year glides swift away,

That we may not recall ;
O, let the past but rule to-day,

And Heaven be over all !

We say,

Faintly the wearied spirit turns,

To seek for earthly rest,
And when the fever fiercest burns,

Leans on some loving breast.
Affection's hand is soft and warm,

Affection's voice is kind ;
But can they give, in life's drear storm,

Peace to the restless mind ?
Ah! straining arms may clasp the breast,
And words of love may fall

That soul alone is truly blest

Where Heaven is over all.

Hearts that have loved us well and long,

We know your priceless worth ;
But be ye not as fetters strong,

To bind us down to earth.
Lips that have warned us, gentle eyes

That smiled upon our youth,
Be more than all beneath the skies,

But less than God and Truth.
Then brightest joys shall dazzle not,

Nor pain nor care appal,
But earth shall prove a blessed spot,

When Heaven is over all.

" What a poor value do men set of heaven!

Heaven! the perfection of all that can
Be said or thought, riches, delight, or harmony,
Health, beauty; and all these not subject to
The waste of time; but in their height eternal ;
Lost for a pension, or poor spot of earth,
Favor of greatness, or an hour's faint pleasure !
As men, in scorn of a true flame that's near,
Should run to light their taper at a glow-worm.”




The diamond's and the ruby's rays

Shine with a milder, finer flame,
And more attract our love and praise

Than beauty's self, if lost to fame.

But the sweet tear in pity's eye

Transcends the diamond's brightest beams; And the soft blush of modesty

More precious than the ruby seems.

The glowing gem, the sparkling stone,

May strike the sight with quick surprise ; But truth and innocence alone

Can still engage the good and wise.

No glittering ornament or show

Will aught avail in grief or pain:
Only from inward worth can flow

Delight that ever shall remain.

Behold, ye fair, your lovely queen!

'Tis not her jewels, but her mind; A meeker, purer, ne'er was seen!

It is her virtue charms mankind !


O LADY, give thy fancy wings,

“ Pour forth the flowing line ; O, ne'er should lie untouched the strings

Of harp so sweet as thine.

Thy themes delight; to me they bring

A soothing melody ;
And o'er my ruffled spirits fling

The charms of minstrelsy.

I never saw thee - yet thy song

Awakes, to memory, Some voice of that now severed throng,

That seemed the world to me.

Among them was a gifted one —

O, sadly sweet the lay She tuned her harp was like thine own;

But she was called away.

Thine is the power to call back days

That once were bright and fair, And friends who trod with me the ways

Of youth devoid of care.

Then, lady, often wake the lyre,

With artlessness thine own;
Of thy sweet lays, O, none can tire,

So soft and pure the tone.

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The winds are whistling loud and shrill

The night is damp and dark ;
I fear me 'twill go hard with him

Who dares to-night embark.

It is a stormy lake, and wide,

Ah! many have found it deep!-
By which Ninomah waits for one

Who has a vow to keep.

She trembles, as the winds grow strong,

And waves leap fast and high ;
And like swift hosts that haste to war,

The dismal clouds move by.

In vain she listens — nought she hears,

Or sees, but of the storm,
That louder, fiercer, darker grows,

Around her trembling form.

“ He's lost !” she cried, when long she'd faced

The dark and dreary shore; 6. He's lost! and I with him will die,

For he can come no more !”


The storm went by — the morning came ;

His heart was glad, I ween,
Who hastened now to mend the vow

He could but break last e'en.

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