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Come, but come only to depart;
Sunbeams, to cheer life's wintry day,
Sunbeams, to flash, then fade away.

'Tis darkness all! black banners wave
Round the cold borders of the grave;
There when in agony we bend

O'er the fresh sod that hides a friend,
One only comfort then we know—
We, too, shall quit this world of wo;
We, too, shall find a quiet place

With the dear lost ones of our race;

Our crumbling bones with theirs shall blend, And life's sad story find an end.

And is this all-this mournful doom?
Beams no glad light beyond the tomb?
Mark how yon clouds in darkness ride;
They do not quench the orb they hide;
Still there it wheels-the tempest o'er,
In a bright sky to burn once more;
So, far above the clouds of time,
Faith can behold a world sublime-

There, when the storms of life are past,

The light beyond shall break at last.

STANZAS.

BY WILLIS GAYLORD CLARK.

"How great are his signs, and how mighty are his wonde is an everlasting kingdom, and his dominion is from gene tion."-DANIEL.

I MARKED the Spring as she passed along, With her eye of light and her lip of song; While she stole in peace o'er the green Eart While the streams sprang out from their icy The buds bent low to the breeze's sigh,

And their breath went forth in the scented s When the fields looked fresh in their sweet And the young dews slept on the new-born

I looked upon Summer;-the golden sun
Poured joy over all that he looked upon;
His glance was cast like a gift abroad,
Like the boundless smile of a present God!
The stream shone glad in his magic ray-
The fleecy clouds o'er the green hills lay:
Over rich, dark woodlands their shadows w
As they floated in light through the firmame

STANZAS.

The scene was changed. It was Autumn's hour;
A frost had discoloured the summer bower;
The blast wailed sad 'midst the cankered leaves,
The reaper stood musing by gathered sheaves;
The mellow pomp of the rainbow woods
Was stirred by the sound of the rising floods;
And I knew by the cloud-by the wild wind's strain,
That Winter drew near with his storms again!

I stood by the Ocean; its waters rolled

In their changeful beauty of sapphire and gold;
And Day looked down with its radiant smiles,

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Where the blue waves danced round a thousand isles;

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STANZAS.

The ships went forth on the trackless seas,
Their white wings played in the joyous breeze;

Their prows rushed on midst the parted foam,
While the wanderer was wrapt in a dream of Home!

The mountain arose with its lofty brow,

While its shadow lay sleeping in vales below;
The mist like a garland of glory lay,

Where its proud heights soared in the air away;
The eagle was there on his tireless wing,
And his shriek went up like an offering;
And he seemed, in his sunward flight, to raise
A chant of thanksgiving-a hymn of praise!

I looked on the arch of the midnight skies,
With its blue and unsearchable mysteries:
The Moon, midst an eloquent multitude
Of unnumbered stars, her career pursued:
A charm of sleep on the city fell,
All sounds lay hushed in that brooding spell;
By babbling brooks were the buds at rest,
And the wild-bird dreamed on his downy nest.

I stood where the deepening tempest passed;
The strong trees groaned in the sounding blast;
The murmuring deep with its wrecks rolled on;
The clouds o'ershadowed the mighty sun:

THE MERRIMACK.

The low reeds bent by the streamlet's side,
And hills to the thunder-peal replied;

The lightning burst forth on its fearful way,
While the heavens were lit in its red array!

And hath MAN the power, with his pride and his skill,
To arouse all Nature with storms at will?
Hath he power to colour the summer cloud-
To allay the tempest when the hills are bowed?
Can he waken the Spring with her festal wreath?
Can the sun grow dim by his lightest breath?
Will he come again, when death's vale is trod?
Who then shall dare murmur "There is no God!"

THE MERRIMACK.

BY JOHN G. WHITTIER.

STREAM of my fathers! sweetly still

The sunset rays thy valley fill;

Poured slantwise down the long defile,

Wave, wood, and spire beneath them smile.
I see the winding Powow fold

The green hill in its belt of gold,
And following down its wavy line,
Its sparkling waters blend with thine.

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