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Weep for the death pangs of the heart,
But never be a tear-drop given
THE AMERICAN INDIAN GIRL.
BY J. M. SMITH, JUN.
O GIVE me back my forest shade,
Where once I roamed so blithe and gay, Where with my dusky mates I strayed,
In childhood's blest and happy day. They told me in the white man's home
I'd soon forget my woodlands wild; And never wish again to roam,
The simple native forest child.
They told me of a happier sphere,
Where, when the dream of life was o'er, The cherished friends that I'd known here
Would meet me there to part no more! I listened fondly to their ther
As bright they painted scenes of bliss; But vanished now is that sweet dream,
And sadness broods o'er hours like this.
Each rustling of the forest tree,
That's waked by gentle zephyrs bland,
Some vision of my native land !
Where once I roamed so blithe and gay,
In childhood's blest and happy day.
MY LIFE IS LIKE THE SUMMER ROSE.
BY R. H. WILDE.
My life is like the summer rose
That opens to the morning sky,
Is scattered on the ground to die:
My life is like the autumn leaf,
That trembles in the moon's pale ray;
Restless, and soon to pass away:
Yet ne'er that leaf shall fall and fade,
My life is like the print which feet
Have left on Tempe's desert strand
His track will vanish from the sand;
THE MERMAID'S CAVE.
BY MISS H. F. GOULD.
COME, mariner, down in the deep with me,
And hide thee under the wave;
In a cell of the mermaid's cave.
And she who is waiting with cheek so pale,
At the tempest and ocean's roar; And weeps when she hears the menacing gale, Or sighs to behold her mariner's sail,
Come whitening up to the shore;
She has not long to linger for thee,
Her sorrows will soon be o'er,
So sweet, she will wake no more.
I LEFT THEE WHERE I FOUND THEE, LOVE.
BY MRS. HARRIET MUZZY.
I LEFT thee where I found thee, love,
Throned gaily in those laughing eyes ;
For love is loveliest while he fies.
For flight may end both hopes and fears;
For love's resistless when in tears.
At distance I may view thee, love,
Unchecked by glances, smiles, or sighs;
So wrapped in friendship's deep disguise.
Thy presence hallowed every spot;
WHEN MORNING, LIKE A BLUSHING BRIDE.
BY F. HILL.
When morning, like a blushing bride,
Looks o'er the earth and sea, love,
Oh, then I'll think of thee, love.
And every mirrored orb that glides
Across the summer sea, love,
Shall wake a thought of thee, love.
Then fare thee well, and bear with thee
This smile--for not one tear, love,
So fondly treasured here, love.
For oh! these eyes with fond truth shine,
And this fond melting heart, love,
That still mine own thou art, love.