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OH TAKE HER, BUT BE FAITHFUL STILL.

BY CHARLES JEFFREYS.

OH take her, but be faithful still,
And may the bridal vow
Be sacred held in after years,

And warmly breathed as now.
Remember, 'tis no common tie

That binds her youthful heart;
"Tis one that only truth should weave
And only falsehood part.

The joys of childhood's happy hour,
The home of riper years,

The treasured scenes of early youth,
In sunshine and in tears;

The purest hopes her bosom knew,

When her young heart was free-
All these and more she now resigns,
To brave the world with thee.

Her lot in life is fixed with thine,
In good and ill to share-

And well I know 'twill be her pride
To soothe each sorrow there.
Then take her, and may fleeting time

Mark only joy's increase,

And may your days glide calmly on,
In happiness and peace.

POUR NOT THE VOICE OF GRIEF.

BY ROBERT MORRIS.

POUR not the voice of grier
Above the sable bier!
The weary spirit finds relief
In some more hallowed sphere.
What recks it that the lip

Hath lost its thrilling hue-
Untainted was their fellowship
As blushing rose and dew.

And now-too soon a creeping thing, Will, like a leech, there feed and cling!

Yet weep not for the dead

Who early pass away,

Ere hope and joy and youth have fled,

Ere wo has wrought decay! Better to die in youth

When life is green and bright,

Than when the heart has lost its truth
In age and sorrow's night-

Then woes and years around us throng
And death's chill grasp is on us long.

Life is a rifled flower

When love's pure visions fadeA broken spell-a faded hourAn echo-and a shade!

The poet's thirst for fame,
And siren beauty's kiss,

Ambition's height, and honour's name,
But yield a phantom bliss-

And man turns back from every goal
Thirsting for some high bliss of soul!

Would I had died when young!
How many burning tears,
And wasted hopes, and severed ties,
Had spared my after years!
And she on whose pale brow,

The damp and cold earth lies,
Whose pure heart in its virgin glow
Was mirrored in dark eyes!
Would I had faded soon with her,
My boyhood's earliest worshipper!

Pour not the voice of wo!

Shed not the burning tear
When spirits from the cold earth go,
Too bright to linger here!
Unsullied let them pass

Into oblivion's tomb

Like snow-flakes melting in the sea

When rife with vestal bloom.

Then strew fresh flowers above the grave, And let the tall grass o'er it wave!

THE GOOD NIGHT.

BY WILLIAM E. HURLBURT.

GOOD-night-Good-night-bright moments fly

Till hours have passed away—

And even the wine that warms the heart

Will not forever stay *

And scenes like this must have their end,
Though mirth be at its height:

So splendid dreams and slumbers sweet
To each and all-Good-night.

We've twined fresh joys about these hours,
And sprinkled them with wine-
And they shall bloom in days to come,
Sweet wreaths in friendship's shrine.
When many a year is all forgot,

Unwithered still and bright,
They'll live in every brother's heart
That joins in this Good-night.

And as we take the parting glass,
And the last bumper drain,

Let's not forget the much-loved friends
We hope to meet again.

We'll think in what soul-cheering tones

They'd crown each evening's flight; And wish once more for their return, To join in our Good-night.

The sparkling fount has ceased to flow,
The basket yields no store;
The wine-drop glittering in each eye,
Proclaims this birth-night o'er :-
The empty glass-the midnight bell-
The lamps declining light-
Give warning to each joyous soul,
To bid the rest-Good-night.

Good-night-Good-night-we've often met,
And oft we'll meet again-
While youth and friends and wine are ours,
We oft will meet again :-

If life soon tires in this dark world,
Why here we'll keep it bright;
Until we share the farewell cup,

And sing the last Good-night.

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