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IT IS NOT THE TEAR.

It is not the tear at this moment shed,

When the cold turf has just been laid o'er him,

That can tell how beloved was the friend that's

fled,

Or how deep in our hearts we deplore him. 'Tis the tear, through many a long day wept, 'Tis life's whole path o'ershaded;

'Tis the one remembrance, fondly kept, When all lighter griefs have faded.

Thus, his memory, like some holy light

Kept alive in our hearts, will improve them, For worth shall look fairer, and truth more bright,

When we think how he lived but to love

them.

And, as fresher flowers the sod perfume,

Where buried saints are lying,

So our hearts shall borrow a sweetening bloom, From the image he left there in dying!

Moore.

THE LAST ROSE OF SUMMER.

'Tis the last rose of summer
Left blooming alone;

All her lovely companions
Are faded and gone ;
No flower of her kindred,
No rose-bud is nigh,
To reflect back her blushes,
Or give sigh for sigh.

I'll not leave thee, thou lone one!
To pine on the stem ;
Since the lovely are sleeping,
Go, sleep thou with them.
Thus kindly I scatter

Thy leaves o'er the bed
Where thy mates of the garden
Lie scentless and dead.

So soon may I follow,

When friendships decay,

And from Love's shining circle

The gems drop away.

When true hearts lie withered,

And fond ones are flown,

O who would inhabit

This bleak world alone?

Moore.

OFT IN THE STILLY NIGHT.

Oft in the stilly night,

Ere Slumber's chain has bound me,

Fond Memory brings the light

Of other days around me;

The smiles, the tears,

Of boyhood's years,

The words of love then spoken;

The eyes that shone,
Now dimmed and gone,

The cheerful hearts now broken!

Thus, in the stilly night,

Ere Slumber's chain has bound me,

Sad Memory brings the light

Of other days around me.

When I remember all

The friends, so linked together,

I've seen around me fall,

Like leaves in wintry weather,

I feel like one

Who treads alone

Some banquet-hall deserted,
Whose lights are fled,

Whose garlands dead,

And all but he departed!

Thus, in the stilly night,

Ere Slumber's chain has bound me,

Sad Memory brings the light

Of other days around me.

Moore.

THOSE EVENING BELLS.

Those evening bells! those evening bells!
How many a tale their music tells,
Of youth, and home, and that sweet time,
When last I heard their soothing chime.

Those joyous hours are passed away;
And many a heart, that then was gay,
Within the tomb now darkly dwells,
And hears no more those evening bells.

And so 'twill be when I am gone;
That tuneful peal will still ring on,
While other bards shall walk these dells,
And sing your praise, sweet evening bells !
Moore.

PEACE BE AROUND THEE.

Peace be around thee, wherever thou rov'st;
May life be for thee one summer's day,
And all that thou wishest, and all that thou
lov'st,

Come smiling around thy sunny way!
If sorrow e'er this calm should break,
May even thy tears pass off so lightly,
Like spring-showers, they'll only make

The smiles that follow shine more brightly.

May Time, who sheds his blight o'er all,
And daily dooms some joy to death,
O'er thee let years so gently fall,

They shall not crush one flower beneath.

As half in shade and half in sun
This world along its path advances,

May that side the sun's upon,

Be all that e'er shall meet thy glances !

Moore.

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