O

THE VOICE OF SPRING AND AUTUMN.

249

The voice of Autumn! earth receives
The summons of decay :
Rustling around, the yellow leaves
Bestrew the wanderer's way.

No bloom or balm to cheer the hours;
The blithe bird sings no more;

Hoarse brawls the stream in forest bowers,
That murmured sweet before;

Through the black woodland, dim and pale,
The dying hills appear;

And hark! the moaning night-winds wail
The requiem of the year!

Hearts, where misfortune has effaced
The sunrise beams of youth,
And cold experience truly traced,
"Earth is no home for truth;"

Fame, friendship, pleasure,- vainly bought-
Love wasted to a sigh —

Dark night descending-ere ye thought

The gentle evening nigh:

What hope remains ?

"Lone Autumn's smile

To mourners kindly given,

Wasted on changing earth a while,
Beams from unchanging heaven."

I GO, SWEET FRIENDS.

I Go, sweet friends! yet think of me
When Spring's young voice awakes the flowers;

For we have wandered far and free,

I

In those bright hours, the violet's hours.

go, but when you pause to hear,

From distant hills, the Sabbath bell
On summer winds float silvery clear,
Think on me then- I loved it well!

Forget me not around your hearth,

When cheerly smiles the ruddy blaze,
For dear hath been its evening mirth,
To me, sweet friends, in other days.

And O, when music's voice is heard

To melt in strains of parting woe,
When hearts to love and grief are stirred, –
Think of me then! I go, I go !

GOOD BY.

FAREWELL! farewell! is often heard
From the lips of those who part;
'Tis a whispered tone 'tis a gentle word,
But it springs not from the heart.

It may serve for the lover's closing lay,
To be sung 'neath a summer's sky;
But give to me the lips that say

The honest words" Good by!"

Adieu! adieu! may greet the ear,
In the guise of courtly speech;
But when we leave the kind and dear,
'Tis not what the soul would teach.
Whene'er we grasp the hands of those
We would have forever nigh,

The flame of friendship bursts and glows
In the warm, frank words

"Good by!"

The mother, sending forth her child

To meet with cares and strife,

Breathes, through her tears, her doubts and fears

For the loved one's future life.

No cold" adieu," no "farewell," lives

Within her choking sigh;

But the deepest sob of anguish gives

"God bless thee, boy! good by!"

THE HISTORY OF LIFE.

DAY dawned. Within a curtained room,
Filled to faintness with perfume,

A lady lay at point of doom.

Day closed. A child has seen the light,
But for the lady fair and bright,

She rested in undreaming night!

Spring came. The lady's grave was green,

And near it oftentimes was seen

A gentle boy, with thoughtless mien.

Years fled. He wore a manly face,
And struggled in the world's rough race,
And won at last a lofty place.

And then HE DIED! Behold before ye
Humanity's brief sum and story,

Life, Death, and all there is of-Glory.

HOME WHERE THE HEART IS.

'Tis home where'er the heart is, Where'er its loved ones dwell, In cities, or in cottages,

Thronged haunts, or mossy dell! The heart 's a rover ever;

And thus on wave and wild

The maiden with her lover walks,
The mother with her child.

'Tis bright where'er the heart is;
Its fairy spells can bring
Fresh fountains to the wilderness,
And to the desert, spring.
There are green isles in each ocean,
O'er which affection glides;

And a haven on each distant shore,
When Love 's the star that guides.

"Tis free where'er the heart is!
Nor chains, nor dungeons dim,
May check the mind's aspirings, -
The spirit's pealing hymn!
The heart gives life its beauty,

Its glory, and its power;

'Tis sunlight to its rippling stream, Soft dew upon its flower!