WHEN MORNING, LIKE A BLUSHING BRIDE. BY F. HILL. WHEN morning, like a blushing bride, And every mirrored orb that glides Then fare thee well, and bear with thee So fondly treasured here, love. For oh! these eyes with fond truth shine, Declare that I am ever thine, That still mine own thou art, love. THERE'S BEAUTY IN THE DEEP. BY J. G. C. BRAINARD. THERE'S beauty in the deep The wave is bluer than the sky; And, though the light shine bright on high, More softly do the sea-gems glow That sparkle in the depths below; There's music in the deep:- There's quiet in the deep : Above, let tides and tempests rave, And earth-born whirlwinds wake the wave; Above, let care and fear contend, ANDRE'S REQUEST TO WASHINGTON. BY NATHANIEL P. WILLIS. IT is not the fear of death It is not for another breath I ask thee now; I can die with a lip unstirred And a quiet heart Let but this prayer be heard I can give up my mother's look My sister's kiss; I can think of love-yet brook A death like this! I can give up the young fame All-but the spotless name Thine is the power to give, Joy for the hour I live Calmness to die. By all the brave should cherish, I ask that I may perish By a soldier's death! THEY SAY THAT NE'ER BY FORTUNE'S GALE. BY GEORGE D. STRONG. THEY say that ne'er by fortune's gale Love claims affection's holier gems To cheer his lonely way! They tell me that my charmer owns That, sparkling on his manly breast, Alas, o'er many a courtier's brow Dark falsehood's ensigns wave, Then cease, the fruitless theme forego, Not mine the transient, flickering flame Be mine the blissful lot With him life's ills and joys to share HOME, SWEET HOME. BY J. HOWARD PAYNE. MID pleasures and palaces, though we may roam, Home, home, sweet, sweet home, There's no place like home. An exile from home, splendour dazzles in vain, |