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IN SWEET REMEMBRANCE OF

THEE!

I never gaze upon the silent sky,

When floats the moon amid its azure blue, But memory ever pictures one bright eye, That gladly watched with me its wand'rings

too;

And thoughts of other blissful days arise, Which my fond heart could wish again to be;

But e'en amid that loneliness, my sighs

Are breath'd in sweet remembrance of Thee!

The sun ne'er shines upon the smiling earth, And wakens into life its dreaming flowers, But I think of Thee who taught me all the worth

Of those pure emblems of Youth's sunny

hours;

And as I gaze upon their beauties fair, Each flowret tells a tale of love to me, And my lone spirit seems enchanted there, And lives in sweet remembrance of Thee!

My fav'rite Lute hath lost its joyous tone, That ever breathed of joyousness before; The angel-music of its soul is gone,

And like its Master's heart, can joy no

more.

But there is a sadness 'mid its softest chords More sweetly beautiful than joy to me,More truly eloquent than blandest words Which sighs in sweet remembrance of Thee!

Then how can I forget?-When every thing That speaks of loveliness in earth or heav'n, To one bright object all my thoughts doth bring,

The loving which, nought else so dear is giv'n ;

When the pale moon, and sun, and summer

sky,

And flowers that glow beneath their

witchery,―

When Lute and echoing song, in every sigh,

All breathe in sweet remembrance of Thee!

H. MUNROE.

SHE IS BRIGHT AND YOUNG.

SHE is bright and young, and her glory

comes

Of an ancient ancestry,

And I love for her beauty's sake to gaze
On the light of her full dark eye.

She is gentle and still, and her voice is as low
As the voice of a summer wind,

And falseness and fickleness have not left
One stain on her girlish mind.

I felt the wild dream creep over like sleep,
More strangely each day I stayed,

And in four short weeks my heart was bound up

In the heart of that highborn maid.

O the stir of love and its beating thrills!— I never had known its power;

So I shut my eyes and went down the stream,

And might have been there to this hour:

But she sung light songs at a solemn time,
And the spell was gone for ever,

And who shall say 'twas a trivial thing
That delicate chain to sever?

F. W. FABER, M.A.

LOVE AND DEATH.

WHAT time the mighty moon was gathering light

Love paced the thymy plots of paradise, And all about him rolled his lustrous eyes; When turning round a casia, full in view, Death, walking all alone beneath a yew, And talking to himself, first met his sight: You must begone," said death, "these walks are mine."

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Love wept, and spread his sheeny vans for flight;

Yet ere he parted, said, "This hour is thine: Thou art the shadow of life, and as the tree Stands in the sun and shadows all beneath, So in the light of great eternity

Life eminent creates the shade of death; The shadow passeth when the tree shall fall, But I shall reign for ever over all."

TENNYSON.

LOVER'S PARTING.

SWEET GOOD NIGHT!

THIS bud of love, by summer's ripening breath,

May prove a beauteous flower when next we

meet;

Good night, good night!-as sweet repose and rest

Come to thy heart, as that within my breast!

SHAKSPERE.

Printed by Manning and Mason, 12, Ivy Lane, St. Paul's.

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