MY OLD WIFE.

BY J. B. PHILLIPS.

OLD Time has dimmed the lustre of her eyes, that brightly shone,

And her voice has lost the sweetness of its girlhood's silvery tone,

But her heart is still as cheerful as in early days of life, And as fondly as I prized my bride, I love my dear old

wife!

When the spring of life was in its bloom, and hope gave zest to youth,

We at the sacred altar stood, and plighted vows of truth. And since though changeful years have passed, with joys and sorrows rife,

Yet, never did I see a change in her, my dear old wife.

Her gentle love my cares have soothed, her smiles each joy enhanced,

As fondly through progressive years together we've advanced;

Though calmly now the current flows, we've known misfortune's strife,

Yet, ever did she cheer my woes, my faithful, fond old

wife.

And ever since that joyous day I blessed her as my

bride,

In joy and sorrow, calm or storm, I found her at my side; And when the summons from above shall close the scene of life,

May I be called to rest with thee, my good, my dear Old Wife!

IANTHE! ON THAT LOFTY BROW.

BY W. HENRY CARPENTER.

IANTHE! on that lofty brow

Thought sits as on a throne;

Yet, as thine eyes are beaming now
With love, and love alone,

My soul doth drink their beauty in,
As if by beauty nursed;

But oh! the more it seems to win,
The more it is athirst.

Then frown not if I look, my dear,
Too fondly in thine eyes;
Or list with too attent an ear

Thy musical replies.

How can mine eyes not glass thine own,

When lovingly they shine;

Or how can I not list the tone

That tells me thou art mine.

Oh! I could linger near thee, sweet!
From eve till morning's light,
And chide the hours whose winged feet
Too swiftly chase the night.
So rapt am I, and thou so dear,
That churlish Time is all forgot;
And I but dream, when thou art near,
To wake when thou art not.

It hath a sad sweet sound-" Farewell,"
When loved lips murmur it;
For 'tis the breaking of a spell
We fain would bind us yet.
Then fades love's rapturous mystery,
And slowly move the loitering hours;
For bleak and bare reality
Usurps the realm of flowers.

THE LAKE OF CAYOSTEA.

BY ROBERT BARKER.

THY wave has ne'er by gondolier Been dashed aside with flashing oar,

Nor festive train to music's strain

Performed the dance upon thy shore.

But there, at night, beneath the light Of silent moon and twinkling ray, The Indian's boat is seen to float, And track its lonely way.

The Indian maid, in forest glade,
Of flowers that earliest grow,
And fragrant leaves, a garland weaves
To deck her warrior's brow.

And when away, at break of day,
She hies her to her shieling dear,
She sings so gay a roundelay,
That echo stops to hear.

Would it were mine to join with thine,
And dwell for ever here,
In forest wild with nature's child,
By the silent Cayostea.
My joy with thee would ever be
Along these banks to roam;
And fortune take beside the lake,

Whose clime is freedom's home.

LOOK ALOFT:

BY JONATHAN LAWRENCE, JUN.

[The following song was suggested by an anecdote said to have been related by the late Dr. Godman, of the ship-boy who was about to fall from the rigging, and was only saved by the mate's characteristic exclamation, "Look aloft, you lubber."]

IN the tempest of life, when the wave and the gale
Are around and above, if thy footing should fail-
If thine eye should grow dim and thy caution depart→
"Look aloft" and be firm, and be fearless of heart.

If the friend, who embraced in prosperity's glow
With a smile for each joy and a tear for each wo,
Should betray thee when sorrow like clouds are arrayed.
"Look aloft" to the friendship which never shall fade.

Should the visions which hope spreads in light to thine

eye,

Like the tints of the rainbow, but brighten to fly, Then turn, and through tears, of repentant regret, "Look aloft" to the sun that is never to set.

Should they who are dearest-the son of thy heart,
The wife of thy bosom-in sorrow depart,
"Look aloft," from the darkness and dust of the tomb,
To that soil where "affection is ever in bloom."