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Fading and false is the aspect it wears,

As the smiles we put on, just to cover our tears; While the withering thoughts which the world.

cannot know,

Like heart-broken exiles, lie burning below; And the vessel drives on to that desolate shore Where the dreams of our childhood are vanished and o'er.

Hervey.

THE GRAVES OF A HOUSEHOLD.

They grew in beauty, side by side,
They filled one home with glee :—
Their graves are severed, far and wide,
By mount, and stream, and sea.

The same fond mother bent at night
O'er each fair sleeping brow;

She had each folded flower in sight-
Where are those dreamers now?

One, 'midst the forest of the west,
By a dark stream is laid-

The Indian knows his place of rest,
Far in the cedar shade.

The sea, the blue lone sea, hath one-
He lies where pearls lie deep;
He was the loved of all, yet none
O'er his low bed may weep.

One sleeps where southern vines are drest,
Above the noble slain ;

He wrapt his colours round his breast
On a blood-red field of Spain,

And one-o'er her the myrtle showers
Its leaves, by soft winds fann'd;
She faded 'midst Italian flowers-
The last of that bright band.

And parted thus they rest, who played
Beneath the same green tree;
Whose voices mingled as they prayed
Around one parent knee!

They that with smiles lit up the hall,
And cheered with song the hearth—
Alas! for love, if thou wert all,
And nought beyond, O earth!

Mrs. Hemans.

THE ANGEL'S GREETING.

"Hark! they whisper! Angels say,
'Sister spirit, come away!''

Come to the land of peace!

POPE.

Come where the tempest hath no longer sway, The shadow passes from the soul away-

The sounds of weeping cease.

Fear hath no dwelling there!

Come to the mingling of repose and love,
Breathed by the silent spirit of the dove
Through the celestial air.

Come to the bright, and blest,

And crowned for ever! 'midst that shining band, Gathered to Heaven's own wreath from every land,

Thy spirit shall find rest!

Thou hast been long alone;

Come to thy mother! on the Sabbath shore, The heart that rocked thy childhood, back once

more

Shall take its wearied one.

In silence wert thou left;

Come to thy sisters! joyously again

All the home-voices, blent in one sweet strain, Shall greet their long bereft.

Over thine orphan head

The storm hath swept, as o'er a willow's bough ;
Come to thy Father! it is finished now;
Thy tears have all been shed.

In thy divine abode,

Change finds no pathway, memory no dark trace, And-oh! bright victory—death by love no place : Come, spirit, to thy God!

Mrs. Hemans.

HE WALKED WITH GOD.

Genesis v. 24.

He walked with God, in holy joy,
While yet his days were few;
The deep glad spirit of the boy
To love and reverence grew.
Whether, each nightly star to count,
The ancient hills he trode,

Or sought the flowers by stream and fount,
Alike he walked with God.

The graver noon of manhood came,
The full of cares and fears;

One voice was in his heart-the same
It heard through childhood's years.
Amidst fair tents, and flocks, and swains,
O'er his green pasture-sod,

A shepherd king on eastern plains-
The patriarch walked with God.

And calmly, brightly, that pure life
Melted from earth away;

No cloud it knew, no parting strife,
No sorrowful decay;

He bowed him not, like all beside,
Unto the spoiler's rod,

But joined at once the glorified,
Where angels walk with God!

So let us walk !—the night must come
To us that comes to all;

We through the darkness must go home,
Hearing the trumpet's call.
Closed is the path for evermore
Which without death he trod ;
Not so that way, wherein of yore
His footsteps walked with God!

Mrs. Hemans.

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