THE WAVES THAT ON THE SPARKLING SAND. MRS. E. F. ELLET. THE waves that on the sparkling sand Those billows in their ceaseless play, The summer winds, which wandering sigh Amid the forest bower, So gently as they murmur by, Scarce lift the drooping flower. Yet bear they, in autumnal gloom, Thus worldly cares, though lightly borne, And spirits, which their bonds would spurn, "Till altered thoughts and hearts grown cold, WOMAN! I'VE HELD THY HAND IN MINE. BY JOHN NEAL. WOMAN! I've held thy hand in mine, No bleaching of thy crimson lip; No trembling of thy breath; And yet, when first I touched thy hand, Thy spirit hushed and motionless, I look, and lo! a thousand wings Thou'rt married!-well-and so am I! Had any claim on me : And thou-dear woman!-didst thou feel Think what a flush of shame would flit Thou tremblest !-ah!-a tear!-a tear! Though married, thou wouldst have me near If there's another life A man of generous heart may not THE MELLOW HORN. BY GEORGE W. HYATT. AT dawn, Aurora gaily breaks, All nature smiles, to usher in At eve when gloomy shades obscure When tinkling bells are heard no more, "Tis then the sweet enchanting note, On zephyrs gently borne, With witching cadence seems to float Around the Mellow Horn. At night when all is hushed and drear, With flaxen locks unshorn, And winds the Mellow Horn. THE SNOW DROP. BY MISS HELEN MATHEWS. A SNOW-FLAKE fell from the summer sky, It chanced to fall in a garden fair, It rested near a blooming rose, The angel smiled on it resting there, The snow-flake said, "Thy flowers have died, "From the scorching sun on high; "And, when above, I have often sighed "To see their colours fly. |