Front Cover
 Half Title
 Title Page
 Table of Contents
 Back Cover

Group Title: The golden present, a gift for all seasons
Title: The golden present, a gift
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00001705/00001
 Material Information
Title: The golden present, a gift for all seasons
Physical Description: 128 p. : ill. ; 12 cm.
Language: English
Creator: J. Buffum ( Publisher )
C.C.P. Moody ( Printer )
Publisher: J. Buffum
Place of Publication: Nashua N.H
Manufacturer: C.C.P. Moody.
Publication Date: 1850
Subject: Aesthetics -- Juvenile literature   ( lcsh )
Love -- Juvenile literature   ( lcsh )
Children's poetry -- 1850   ( lcsh )
Bldn -- 1850
Genre: Children's poetry   ( lcsh )
poetry   ( marcgt )
Statement of Responsibility: Edited by Mrs. J. Thayer.
Funding: Brittle Books Program
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00001705
Volume ID: VID00001
Source Institution: University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved by the source institution and holding location.
Resource Identifier: aleph - 002447326
oclc - 03315107
notis - AMF2581

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Front page 1
        Front page 2
        Front page 5
    Half Title
        Front page 6
        Front page 7
    Title Page
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    Table of Contents
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Full Text





The Baldwin Library
Q B dof





V \1 I k .




V / -









Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 184,
In the Clerk's Office of tt strictit Court of the Distrid
of New hampshire.



I HAVE been gleaning through the fields
of poetry and sentiment. I have gathered
golden ears from sheafs of thought and feel-
ing, and caught the choicest notes of song-
ster and philosopher and having twined them
in a bright wreath, I send it forth upon its
mission to charm the eye and heart of
Beauty. Go forth, little book! Wherever
young hearts are bounding, wherever Hope
has reared a temple, be thou found. Be
thou the medium through which the lover
woes his lady, a bright link in Friendship's
chain, a sweet remembrancer of other days,
a cheering index to the Future. Go forth,
my little book! and blessings attend thee I

__ ___

__ ____


Think of me, ....... .................... 7
Separation ................... ... 8
Night,... ................... 9, 49, 52, 67
Summer Evening, ...................... 11
Music, ............ .................. 13
Flowers, ............................ 15
Beauty, .............................. 16
Poets, ................................ 19
Love, ..................... 19, 36, 41, 51, 62
Parting, ................................... 20
Clouds,. .. .... ............. 21
Solitude, .. ................ ........ 21
Reflections, ............................ 23
Irony, .................... ...... ...... 23
Consciousness, ......................... 24
Woman, ............................... .. 24
To the Herb Rosemary,................... 25
The Plain Speaker,......................... 26
Instantaneous Impressions,............... 27
Dreams,. ................... ...... 27
Dissimulation, .......................... 28
Lost Love,.............................. 28
Charity, ..... .. ......................... 29
A Human Bosom,......................... 29
Life ....... ... ................ ......... 30
Music, .................. ....... ........... 31
Sadness, ... . .. ..... ...... .. 81
First and Only Love, ..................... 32
Beauty, .................. .............. 83
Sordid Love, ... ..... ............. 34
K issues, ................ ... .. ...... 35
Silence, .................................. 40
Pleasure, ............. .............. 42


Spring, .. ...... ............ 43
The Past, .. .......... ................. 44
Contemplation, .................. 46
Love Token, ........................ 45
Music's Power, ....................... 46
Twilight, ................ ......... .. 47
The Author, ............................ 48
Memory, ............................ 48
Woman's Love, ......................... 0
Genius, ............. .......... .... 50
Evening, .............................. 6
Romance and Reality, .................... 54
Poets, ........................... 65
Nature, .................. ..... ...... 56
Cheerfulness, ........................ 67
Youth, ........... .. ..............
W it, .................. ........... *
Life, .... ........ ................
Sympathy, ..... ...............
Conventionalism, ........ ...... ......
Song, ... ....... ......... 64,69:99,
Prudence, ... ........................64
Impatience, ... ............ ....... .. 66
The Grave, ............. ... ........... 66
Bid me not Remember, ........... ..... 68
Romance,- .......... ..................69
Prayer, .......................... 71
Portraits, ..... ........... ....... .... 78
The Faithless One, ...................... 73
Reflections,. .... ........... .... .. .. .. 74
Awakening, ... ........................ 75
The First Time, *. ... .... ....... ... 76
The Past,- ........... ..... ... .. 78
The Calm of Temperament, ............... 79
Genius and Talent,..................... 79
Life, .... ................ .. .. ..... 80
Kisses. ... ..... ............ ..... 81
Night and Morning, ...................... 81


May Morning, ............. .. 88
Farewell, ............. 84
Autumn, ........ 85
Rhymeless Poets, ............... 86
Flowers, ........... ....... 87
An Epigram, ....................... 88
June, ............................. 88
The St. Lawrence, ....................... 89
Bashfulness,. ..... ................... 91
A Farewell to America, ..................* 92
The Lover, ............................ 98
I am not Old,... ...................... 95
Stanzas, ... .......................... 96
First Grief, .... .. ......... ............. 98
Childhood, ....... ..................... 100
Sim ile, ... ............................ 101
ship, ... .......... ................ 102
eart, ....................... .. 103
perance, *........................ *. .. 108
Song of the Birds, .................. 105
books .. ............................ 106
Miscrere Nobis, .......................107
Youth and Hope and Love, .................. 109
Politeness, ..... ... ..................... Il1
Something New, ....................... 118
Marriage, ........................ 114, 116
Conversation, ...........................* 114
Presentiments, ........ .........** **...... 117
Thy Smiles, ............................... 118
Wounded Affection, ............*......* 118
The Flight of Time, ....................*** 120
Poetry, .............................. 120
The Aching Heart,..................... 122
The Bride.......................... 126,127




Think of me.
Go, where the water glideth gently ever,
Glideth by meadows that still greenest be;
Go, listen to our own beloved river,
And think of me!
Wander in forests where the small flower i
Its fairy gem beneath the giant tree;
Listen the dim brook pining while it playeth,
And think of me!
Watch when the sky is silver-pale and even,
And the wind grieveth on the lonely tree;
Go out beneath the solitary heaven,.
And think of me!
Andwhen the moonriseth, as she were dreaming,
And treadeth with white feet the lulled et;
Go, silent as a star beneath her beaming,
And think of me !


IN any case, a feeling of sadness will
come over the heart, at the reflection that a
friend whom we have loved will be with us
no more. The word farewell! has in it
something dirge-like, which all more or less
feel so many things may take place that
prevent the after-meeting of those who
part,or they may meet with altered feelings.
One may drink of the poisoned chalice of
ftishness, and return to his friend with a
willed heart, and meet the beaming eye,
the grasp of affection, with a cold smile of
recognition. 0! I would rather never,
never again see those I have loved, and
whose remembrance is twined around my
heart, than meet the averted eye of changed
affection. I would rather kneel above the
graves of those with whom I parted in
friendship, than read upon their living
faces the change which the cold world may
have wrought within their hearts.


It is sad to part from those we have been
accustomed to see daily, from whom we
have been in the habit of receiving those
little, kind attentions which make life pleas-
ant; but harder than all for woman to say
farewell to him she loves; to feel that
years may intervene before the sound of
that dear voice shall again gladden her
ear--those eyes, whose expression has
ever been kindly, shall lighten her heart;
to know that she has felt the pressure of
that friendly hand for the last time and
that through the long future they shall be
as strangers. MRS. J. THAYER.


I HEARD the trailing garments of the night
Sweep through her marble halls;
I saw her sable skirts all fringed'with light
From the celestial walls.
I felt her presence by its spell of might
Stoop o'er me from above;


The calm, majestic presence of the night
As of the one I love.

I heard the sounds of sorrow and delight,
The manifold soft chimes
That fill the haunted chambers of the night,
Like some old poet's rhymes.

From the cool cisterns of the midnight air
My spirit drank repose;
The fountain of perpetual Peace flows there,-
From those deep cisterns flows.

0 holy Night! from thee I learn to bear
What man has borne before !
Thou layest thy fingers on the lps of care,
And they complain no more.

Peace! peace Orestes like I breathe this prayer;
Descend with swift winged flight; [ikir!
The welcome! the thrice prayed for! the most
The best beloved Night !

-- ----`


Summer Evening.
STWAS evening, still, quiet summer eve-
ning! The glorious moon looked out from
'her drapery of fleecy clouds, and shed her
mild light over forests and groves, gay
pasterre and rippling water; then like a
coy beauty, she drew a thick veil around
her, and for a time a shadow lay upon the
earth. It was one of those nights on which
we love to give the reins to memory, and
call up from its recesses treasures of the
past for the mind to dwell upon until it
forgets they are but phantoms of departed
time; to lift the veil from the tomb and
call forth its regretted inmates, not with
the ghastly hue of death upon their brows,
but glowing with health and happiness as
when their hands pressed ours, and their
voices made sweet music to our ears. I
have gazed upon the orb of night until my
heart has swelled within my bosom with
vain longings to pierce its mysteries; to


throw off the mortal coil that enchains it,
and soar away to the regions of light. I
have looked upon the heavens in their
beauty, with the mellow moon-light shin-
ing over them, until the whisperings of the
night air has seemed to me like the voices
of loved ones, who have gone to their
homes in the skies, blest spirits hovering
nigh on errands of mercy to hail the re-
penting sinner's sigh, and bear his ha!f-
formed prayer to the throne of the Invisi-
ble. I think I am ever better afier con-
templating such a scene: the heart becomes
purifiedby holding communion with itself
in Nature's temple, with none to behold
its workings but Nature's God. No un-
holy thought can enter it, at such a time;
its aspirations are pure, they ascend to
heaven and their fruit is Peace.



WazENr is the might of thy master spell?
Speak to me, voice of sweet sound, and tell -
How canst thou wake, by our gentle breath,
Passionate visions of love and death ?

How call'st thou back with a note or sigh,
Words and low tones from the days gone by -
A sunny glance, or a fond farewell ?
Speak to me, voice of sweet sound, and tell!
What is the power, from the soul's deep spring
In sudden gushes the tears to bring;
Even amidst the spells of the festal glee
Fountains of sorrow are stirred by thee!

Vainare those tears! vain and fruitless all -
Showers that refresh not, yet still must fall;
For a pure bliss while the T1ll heart burns,
For a brighter home while the spirit yearns.

t thing of mystery there surely dwells,
iing thy touch in our bosom cells;
6Smething that finds not its answer here -
A chain to be clasped in another sphere.

Therefore a current of sadness deep,
Through the stream of thy triumph Is heard to



Like a moan of the breeze through a summer bky,
Like a name of the dead when the wine foams high!
Yet speak to me still, though thy tones be fraught
With vain remembrance and troubled thought,-
Speak! for thou tell'st my soul that its birth
Links it with regions more bright than earth!

Music is a glorious thing! It is an
intoxication, an enchantment; a world in
which to live, to combat, to repose; a sea
of painful delight, incomprehensible and
boundless as eternity. In such moments a
vision sometimes presents itself; it appears
to me as if there arose out of this tempestu-
ous world, above this sea of sounds, a -
what must I call it ? A hope, a heavenly
spirit, a kind, reconciling genius, which q-
tracting from this stream of sound all
that is most beautiful and most etherial,
weaves therefrom its own pure essence.
The deeper the fugue descends, the brighten
becomes this image, like stars in the dark


night. Then sinks the storm, and my
soul becomes tranquil; all dissonance, all
pain is gone, and the heavenly image floats
radiantly over the quiet lake; then it dims
and vanishes. I cannot keep it; it arises
with the ascending of the sound, and fades
with its decline; neither can I call up, at
will, this heavenly phantasma, although I
have ever an indescribable longing to be-.
hold it,-A reality so beautiful as this
vision, life has never presented me with.

Your voiceless lips, oh flowers, are living preachers
Each cup a pulpit, every leaf a book,
Supplying to my fancy numerous teachers
From loneliest nook
Neath cloistered boughs each floral bell btat
SAnd tolls its perfume on the passing air,
Makes Sabbath in the fields, and ever ringeth
A call to prayer.



Not to the domes where crumbling arch and col.
Attest the feebleness of mortal hand,
But to that fane most catholic and solemn
Which God has planned.

To that cathedral boundless as our wonder,
Whose quenchless lamps the sun and moon sup-
Its choir, the winds and waves-its organ thunder,
Its dome the sky.

There amid solitude and shade I wander,
Through the green aisles and stretched upon the
Awed by the silence reverently ponder
The ways of God.


IT was a very proper answer to him who
asked why any man should be delighted
with beauty ? that it was a question that
none hut a blind man could ask; since any
beautiful object doth so much attract the


sight of all men. that it is in no man's pow-
er not to be pleased with it. Nor can any
aversion or malignity towards the ob-
ject irreconcile the eyes from looking upon
it. As a man who hath an envenomed and
mortal hatred against another, who hath a
most graceful and beautiful person, can-
not hinder his eyes from being delighted to
behold that person, although that delight
is far from going to the heart; so no man's
malice towards an excellent musician can
keep his ear from being pleased with his

BEAUTY thou art twice blessed! thou
blessest the gazer and the possessor; often
at once the cause and the effect of good-
ness A sweet disposition, a lovely soul,
an affectionate nature, will speak in the
eyes, the lips, the brow, and become the
cause of beauty. On the other hand, they
who have a gift that commands love, a key


that opens all hearts, are ordinarily inclined
to look with happy eyes upon the world; to
be cheerful and serene; to hope and to con-
fide. There is more wisdom than the vul-
gar dream of in our admiration of a fair
face. BULWER

FoB it is beauty maketh poesie,
As from the dancing eye comes tears of light.
Night hath made many barfs; she is so lovely.
And they have praised her to her starry face,
So long, that she hath blushed and left them, often
When first and lat we met, we talked on studies;
Poetry only I confess is mine,
And is the only thing I think or read of: --
Feeding my soul upon the soft, and sweet,
And delicate imaginings of song;
For as nightingales do upon glow-worms feed,
So poets live upon the living light
Of nature and of beauty; they love light



HIGH and beautiful is the lot of the
great poet. His lyre is the world, and the
strings on which he plays are the souls of
men. When he wills it, these tones are
called forth, and melt together into a di-
vine harmony. Miss BREMER.


Love is the gift which God hath given
To man alone beneath the heaven.
It is the secret sympathy
The silver link, the silken tie,
Which heart to heart, and mind to mind,
In body and in soul can bind.


HEAR 'tis for this I stay -
To say we part forever part:
But oh how wide the line
Between thy Marrian's bursting heart
And that proud heart of thine.
And thou wilt wander here and there,
Ever the gay and free ;
To other maids will fondly swear,
As thou hast sworn to me;
And I oh I shall but retire,
Into my grief alone;
And kindle there the hidden fire,
That burns, that wastes unknown.
And love and life shall find their tomb,
In that sepulchral flame : -
Be happy none shall know for whom -
I will not dream thy name. Baras.




VARYING wreaths of thin, white clouds
were seen rapidly flying over the cerulean,
increasing, involving, deepening into gloom
as they were heaped and hurried on, till
sometimes they overspread the entire heav-
ens, sometimes breaking apart left wide
spaces, and less rifts of bright blue sky, be-
tween which the stars appeared like flights
of golden birds winging their way after
the swift moon. Miss PORTER.

Wso contemplates, aspires, or dreams, is not
Alone; he peoples with rich thoughts the spot.
The only loneliness, how dark and blind -
Is that where fancy cannot dupe the mind ;-
Where the heart, sick, despondent, tired with all,
Looks joyless round, and sees the dungeon wall;-
When even God is silent, and the curse
Of stagnor, settles on the universe; -
When prayer is powerless, and one sense of death
Abysses all, save solitude on earth. Nzw *TON.


To sit on rocks, to muse o'er flood and fell,
To slowly trace the forest's shady scene,
Where things that own not man's dominion
And mortal foot hath ne'er, or rarely been ;
To climb the trackless mountain all unseen,
With the wild flock that never needs a fold;
Alone o'er sleep and foaming falls to lean;
This is not solitude ; 't is but to hold
Converse with nature's charms, and view her stores

But midst the crowd, the hum, the shock of
To hear, to see, to feel, and to possess,
And roam along the world's tired denizen !
With none who bless us, none whom we can
Minions of splendor shrinking from distress !
None that with kindred consciousness endued,
If we were not would seem to smile the less
Of all that flattered, followed, sought and sued;
This is to be alone; this, this is solitude!



I WELCOME you, ye wild breezes which
are melting away the winter's snow. I
bless you, bright spring sun, which brings
life and warmth into the dust of the grave!
from the home of death, from the silent
church-yard, I have to-day greeted life,
where the unquietly beating heart, where
every thing finds peace. I myself, feel in
my breast (which time has not yet been
able to harden,) the unquiet prisoner, which
beats so tumultuously now in sorrow and
now in gladness, and it does me good to
think, that mine, too, shall be one day
among the quiet ones. Miss BRBBLR.

THERE is a bitterness of irony to which
no other mode of expressing strong resent-
ment is comparable for force and fearful-
ness. Miss PORTaE.




OH turn those eyes away from me,
Though sweet yet fearful are their rays;
And though they beam so tenderly
I feel I tremble neath their gaze.

Oh turn those eyes away ; for though
To meet their glance I may not dare,
I know their light is on my brow
By the warm blood that mantles there.
Mas. BUzaB.


That woman in her deepest degradation,
Holds something sacred, something undefiled,
Some pledge and keepsake of her higher nature,
And, like the diamond in the dark, retains
Some quenchless gleam of the celestial light.


To the Herb Rosemary.

SWEEr-8ENTED flower! who art wont to bloom
On January's front severe,
And o'er the wintry desert drear
To waft thy waste perfume !
Come, thou shalt form thy nosegay now,
And I will twine thee round my brow;
And as I twine the mournful wreath,
I' U weave a melancholy song.
And sweet the strain sball be and long,
The melody of death.

Come fAneralflower! who lovest to dwell
With the pale corse in the lonely tomb,
And throw across the desert gloom
A sweet decaying smell.
Come press my Ups and lie with me
Beneath the lonely alder tree,
And we shall sleep a pleasant sleep,
And not a care shall dare intrude
To break the marble solitude
peaceful and so deep.

And hark the wind-god, as he flies,
Moans hollow in the forest trees,
And sailing on the gusty breeze,
Mysterious music dies.



Sweet flower; that requium wild is mine,
It warns me to the lonely shrine,
The cold turf-altar of the dead;
My grave shall be in yon lone spot,
Where as I lie, by all forgot,
A dying fragrance thou wilt o'er my ashes shed.
H. K. Wains.

The Plain Speaker.
MOST near in faith and affinity to the
Busy-body, is the Plain Speaker- a being
of coarse feelings, rude utterance, and boast-
ful integrity. Could the scorn of a sarcasm
kill, these would have s4ain their thousands.
The music of such is usually upon a sharp
note, and has no symphony. In their vo-
cabulary presumption means sincerity;
impertinence is honesty; careless, cutting
allusions, right and righteousness. And
yet the dark den of such hearts more usually
incloses the tiger than the serpent-brood.




Instantaneous Impressions.

On there are looks and tones that dart
An instant sunshine through the heart;
As if the soul that instant caught
Some treasure it though life had sought,
As if the very lips and eyes
Predestined to have all our sighs,
And never be forgot again
Sparkled and spoke before us then.

EVIL is in love,
And ever those who are unhappiest have
Their hearts' desire the oftenest, but in dreams.
Dreams are mind-clouds, high and unshapen beau.
Or but, God-shaped, like mountains which contain
Much and rich matter; often not for us,
But for another. Dreams are rudiments
Of the great state to come. We dream what is
About to happen to us. BAILur.

--~~ -- -


TIMID natures ale ever in danger of
being driven into dissimulation, when too
severely taxed about their actions, or vis-
ited for their errors. Miss PORTER.

Lost Love.
Is there any anguish like that of losing
love by a fault ? any pain like that slow
bitterness which comes upon the heart
when the certainty of its actual loss be-
comes fully perceptible to it? Reason said
it must be so, imagination anticipated it,
fear shrank from it, but love itself stood
tremulous and unbelieving, till that certain-
ty fell upon it and crushed it; and then it
lay still beneath the weight, stunned and
motionless, but yet alive, and living forever,
though living only to suffer.




THEN gently scan your brother man,
Still gentler sister woman ;
Tho' they may gang a kenning wrang;
To step aside is human:
One point must still be greatly dark
The moving why they do it;
And just as lamely can ye mark
How far perhaps they rue it.

A HUMAN bosom -great, full of love as
the heavens, true, gentle and pure --O
there is a world in which to live! perfect,
beautiful and eternal. There is the fire of
passion. purified but not quenched, the un-
$0tiet is made qujet; the strength is exalted
and confirmed. Miss BREMER.


LIFE is rich and beautiful. God's good-
ness is inexhaustible; why then should our
hearts cease to receive it Why should
they wither away so long as there flow
such wells of enjoyment ? If they do, it
must be their own fault. They contract
themselves; they close themselves; they
will not expand in order to rejoice in the
joy of others, to admire the beauty of the
world. Ah! that is poverty of soul. I
desire it not. I will keep my soul open;
spring and friendship, and song live per-
petually on the earth. Heavy and woful
times may come, but they must go again,
and even while they last, shall we no longer
look at the sunshine which falls on our
lives, as on that which is turned away from
it? Miss BREMER.



Musio -oh how faint, how weak,
Language fades before thy spell
Why should feeling ever speak
When thou canst breath her soul so well?
Friendship's balmy words may feign,
Love's are e'en more false than they;
Oh 't is only music's strain
Can sweetly soothe and not betray.


SADNESS is itself sometimes more pleas-
ing than joy; but this sadness must be of
the expansive and generous kind, rather
referring to mankind at large, than the
individual, and this is a feeling not incom-
patible with cheerfulness and a contented
spirit. H. K. WHITE.


First and Only Love.
SHE never loved but once,
And then her love did seem
Like the opening of the tomb,
Or the weaving of a dream: -
A premature betrothing
To immortal things, -
A momentary clothing
With an angel's wings.

S She never loved but once,
And then she learnt to feel
The wounds that Love inflicts,
That Love alone can heal,
For as that light of life
Slowly faded by,
She calmed her spirit's strife
In her wish to die.

Yet loved, and Memory drew
Some joy from all the pain,-
Her heart was kind to all
But never loved again
She bid it cease to beat,
Till in yon sky above,
Love with love should meet,
First and only love.



THE ancients called beauty the flowing
of virtue. Who can analyze the nameless
charm which glances from one and another
face and form? We are touched with
emotions of tenderness and complacency,
but we cannot find whereat this dainty
emotion, this wandering gleam, points. It
is destroyed, for the imagination by any
attempt to refer it to organization. Nor
does it point to any relations of friendship
or love known and described in society, but,
as it seems to me, to a quite other and un-
attainable sphere, to relations of transcend-
ent delicacy and sweetness, to what roses
and violets hint and foreshow. We can-
not approach beauty. Its nature is like
opaline doves' neck lustres, hovering and
evane nt. Herein, it resembles the most
excelled tbhgs, which all have this rain-
bow character, defying all attempts at ap-
propriation and use. What'else did Jean


Paul Rechter signify, when he said to
music, "Away! away! thou speakest to
me of the things which in all my endless
life I have not found and shall not find."

Sordid Love.
I GAVE thee, love, a snow-white wreath,
Of lilies for thy raven hair,
Alas, that now another's gift,
Rubies and gold should glitter there.
I saw this morn that lily wreath
Neglected thrown upon the ground,
And then I saw upon that brow
That chaplet of those rubies bound.
'T is no new passion, no new fkee,
Hath won thy fickle heart from me;
That, I had better borne, than know
That gold hath wrought this change in thee.
1 c% L.




CUPID, if storying legends tell aright, e
Once framed a rich elixir of delight.
A chalice o'er love-kindled flames he fixed,
And in it nectar and ambrosia mixed;
With these the magic dews which evening brings
Brushed from the Idalian star by fairy wings;
Each tender pledge of sacred faith he joined,
Each gentler pleasure of the unspotted mind -
Day-dreams, whose tints with sportive brightness
And Hope the blameless parasite of woe.
The eyeless chemist heard the process rise,
The steamy chalice bubbled up in sighs;
Sweet sounds transpired, as when the enamored
Pours the soft murmuring of responsive love.
The finished work might Envy vainly blame,
And Kisses was the precious compound name,
With half, the god his Cyprian mother blest,
And breathed on Sara's lovelier lips the rest.


EVERY promise of the soul has innu-
merab.e fulfihnents; each of its joys ripens
into a new want. Nature, uncontainab'e,
flowing, forelooking, in the first sentiment
of kindness anticipates already a benevo-
lence which shall lose all particular re-
gards in its general light. The introduction
to this felicity is in a private and tender
relation of one to one, which is the enchant-
ment of human life; *
* What fa-tens attention, in the
intercourse of life, like any passage betray-
ing affection between two parties Per-
haps we never saw them: before, and never
shall meet thc:n again. But we see them
exchange a g'ance, or betray a deep emotion,
and we are no longer strangers. We un-
derstand them, and take the warmest inter-
est in the development of the romance.
All mankind love a lover, *
No man ever forgot the visitations of that


power to his heart and brain, which created
all things new; which vwa the dawn, in
him, of mnic. poetry and art; which made
the face of na. ie rad ant wih purple light,
the morning and ilie eight \a. ied enchant-
ments ; when a iing e tol:e of one voice
could make the hear: bound. ai.d the most
trivial circumstance a-4.ociated with one
form is put in the amber of memory; when
he became a.l eye \\hen one wa, present,
and all memory when one was gone. When
no place is too solitary, and none too silent,
for him who has richer company anld sweet-
er conversation in lii, own thoughts, than
any old f. iends, though best and purest,
can give hi.n, b e When
the moonlight was a peaking fever, and
the stars were letters, and the flowers
ciphers, and the air was coined with song.
The passion rebuilds the world for the youth.
It makes all things alive and significant,
nature grows conscious. Every bird on
the boughs of the trees sing now to his


heart and soul. The note:, are almost ar-
ticulate. The clouds have faces as he
looks on them. 'Ihe trees of the forest,
the waving grass and the peeping flowers
have grown intelligent; andl he almost
fears to trust them wxvih the secret which
they seem to invi:e. Yet nature soothes
andl sympathizes. In the green solitudes
he tind a dealer home than wih men. *
'IThe lover cannot
paint the maiden to his fancy poor and
solitary. Like a tree in flower, so much
soft, budding. informing loveliness is so-
ciety for itse.ft and -he teaches his eye why
Beauty was pictured with Loves and
Graces attend: g her steps. Her existence
makes the world rich. Though she ex-
cludes all other persons from his attention
as cheap and unworthy, she indemnities
limn by carrying out her own being into
somewhat impersonal, large, mundane, so
that the maiden stands, to him for a repre-
sentative of all select things and virtues.


For that reason, the lover never sees
personal resemblances in his mistress to
her kindred or to others. His friends find
in her a likeness to her mother, or to per-
sons not of her blood. The lover sees no
resemblance except- to summer evenings
and diamond mornings, to rainbows and
the song of birds. EMERtSON.

ITER love
Was such as hearts of poetry
Alone can feel the meek-eyed dove
Is not so gentle and the sky
Which looks on classic Italy,
Doth emblem less pure thoughts above
Than this, while love is truth. But stain
Its purity by one light blot,
Break but one link of passion's chain -
Let one kind accent be forgot -
One cold look for a fond one given -
The spirit breaks which bendeth not,
Withereth but upbraideth not,
And calmly takes its peaceful flight to Heaven.
I said she had not wept but tea
I said she had not wept but tears




Must have their flow and though the pride
Of the wronged heart may quell for years
The gushing of their cooling tide,
Let but one soft feeling fall
Like moon-light on a dark cloud; giving
The thoughts a brighter hue and all
The portals of the heart are living
With the thick rush of tears. L. E. L.


IT is said that if a silken thread be tied
around a perfectly moulded bell at the
moment of sounding. the bell will burst
asunder, and shiver into a thousand pieces.
So it is when a heart of perfect and delicate
harmony in itself, seeks to manifest its life
among other hearts, the slightest revulsion
is enough to destroy the expression forever.
There is no
expression for perfect happiness but perfect
silence. It is not human enough for lan-
guage; and the fullest concord of har-
monious sounds is, after all, only a sigh


after the Infinite. No sound in the whole
catalogue of earthly notes expresses un-
mixed joy but the laughter of a very young
child, and we all know how that changes
to tears in a moment. Yet if speech and
sound are but the voice of longing, so after
all is silence, rightly understood, only the
voice of wailing. When will the Future
come wherein the Present shall satisfy the

Love. &

HIE, who fbr love hath undergone
The worst that can befall,
Is happier, thousand fold than one
Who never loved at all;
A grace within his soul has reigned,
Which nothing else can bring -
Thank God for all that I have gained,
By that high suffering MxUu.

Ku t~'



THAT delight which we do not pay with
pain is ever worth seeking; every particu-
lar plea-lure swells our account of happi-
ness. and it is a false wisdom that pretends
to despite pleasure. We might as well
refuse to live, because we do not exist in
the eternal and solid duration of time
like the Supreme Being, as decline and de-
spise pleasures because they are transient.
What belongs to us that is not so ? All
is succession; fleeting time bears all away.
Our fancies mount the wing. and fly before
our possessions vanish. Our wish obtained,
desire goes on and leaves possession as a
load behind. MRS. MONTAGUE.



On the inexpressible, delightful spring
air I enjoy it through tile open window,
sitting among the flowers. The sun pene-
Strates me with new warnith; the birds
twitter among the budding trees of the ter-
race; all is beautiful, wi d and glorious.
If there is a feeling upon earth, which
is delightful, elevating, which calls forth
tones of peace and joy it is that which we
experience af er hours of pain and sickness,
when we return again to life; and to a life
in which only spring brCeeze, spring flowers
meet us. How still is everything about
us how open to gladness, disposed for
goodness Miss BREMER.

How very desolate that breast must be
Whose only joyance is in memory.--
L. E. L.



The Past.

TEARS, idle tears, I know not what they mean,
Tears from the depth of some divine despair
Rise in the heart and gather to the eyes,
In looking on the happy autumn fields,
And thinking on the days that are no more.

Fresh as the first beam glittering on a sail
That brings our friends up from the under world,
Sad as the last which reddens over one
That sinks with all we love below the verge;
So sad, so fresh, the days that are no more.

Ah, sad and estranged as in dark summer dawns
The earliest pipe of half-awakened birds
To d) ing ears, when under d3 ing eyes
The casement slowly grows a glimmering square;
So sad, so strange the days that are no more.

Dear as remembered kisses after death,
And sweet as those by hopeless fancy feigned
On lips that are for others ; deep as love.
Deep as first-love, and wild with all regret;
O, Death in Life, the days that are no more.




HE, who. awakened to the inward exer-
ci inner world in his own spi:.it, fills the
wide horizon of the open 4ea with the sub-
lime idea of the infinite; his eye dwells
especially on the dlitant line where air and
water join, and where stars arise and set in
every renewed alteration. In such con-
templations there ming'cs, as in all human
joy, a breath of sadness and longing.
IIuMBOLT's KosMos.

Love Token.
OH only those
Whose souls have felt this one idolatry
(Sn tell how previous is the slightest thing
Affection gives and hallows A dead flower
1111 long he kept, remembrancer of look
That made each leaf a treasure. L. E. L.


Music's Power.

HAVE you not heard in music's sound
Some chords which o'er your heart,
First fling a moment's magic round
Then silently depart ?
But when the echo on the air
Roused by that simple lay,
It leaves a world of feeling there
We cannot chase away.
Yes, yes, a sound hath power to bid them come
Youth's half-forgotten hopes, childhood's remem-
bered home.

When sitting in your silent home
You gaze around and weep,
Or call to those who cannot come,
Nor wake from dreamless sleep;
Those chords, so oft as you bemoan
The distant and the dead,"
Bring dimly back the fancied tone
Of some sweet voice that's tied !
Yes, yes, a sound hath power to bid them co
Youth's half-forgotten hopes, childhood's remem.
bered home.

And when amid the festal throng,
You are, or would be gay -



And seek to wile with dance and song,
A' our sadder thoughts away, -
They strike those chords, and smiles depart,
As, rushing o'er your soul
The untold feelings of the heart
Awake and spurn control.
Yes, yes, a sound has power to bid them come
Youth's half-forgotten hopes, childhood's remem-
bered home. Mss. NoaToN.


THs day is done, and the darkness
Falls from the wings of night,
As a feather is wafted downward
From an eagle in his flight.

I see the lamps of the village
Gleam through the rain and the mist,
And a feeling of sadness comes o'er me,
That my soul cannot resist.

A feeling of sadness and longing,
t hat is not akin to pain,
And resembles sorrow only
As the mist resembles the rain.



The Author.

STILL those wild and valueless essays,
those soft and secret confessions of his own i
heart, were a delight to him. Ile began to
taste the transport, the intoxication of an
author. And oh! what a luxury is there
in that first love of the muse! that process
by which we give a palpable form to the
long intangible visions which have flitted
across us; the beautiful ghost of the ideal
within us, which we invoke in the Godara
of our still closets, with the wand of the
simple pen. BULWER.

YES, memory has honey cells,
And some of them are ours ;
For in the sweetest of them dwells
The dream of early hours. L. L.
ThedreL. lk



YE stars! which are the poetry of heaven!
If in your bright leaves we would read the fate
Of men and empires. 't is to he forgiven
That in our aspirations to be great
Our destinies o'erleap their mortal state
And claim a kindred with you; for ye are
A beauty and a mystery, and create
In us such love and reverence from afar,
That fortune, fame, power, life, have named them-
selves a star.

All heaven and earth are still though not in
sleep ;
But breathless as we grow when feeling most;
And silent, as we stand in thoughts too deep;-
All heaven and earth are still; from the high
Of stars, to the lulled lake and mountain-rest,
All is concentered in a life intense
When not a beam, nor air, nor leaf is lost,
But hath a part of being. and a sense
Of that which is of all Creator and defense. -




Woman's Love.
SHE thinks that he
looks all the better for being pale, or at
least, a thousand times more intellectual,
and so there gradually blends with her
former love for him, that deep reverence
which forms the firmest bond of union be-
tween the sexes. A4 man may love, and
far oftener than not, does love one beneath
hit in point of intellect. But it seems as
natural for a woman to look up to the ob-
ject of her allection as the flower to the
moon the glow-worrm to the star. *


SHE was not a woman of genius, but she
was tremblingly alive to all the influences
of genius. Some people seem born with
the temperament and the tastes of genius
without its creative power-- they have it


nervous system, but something is wanting
in the intellectual. They feel acutely
but express tamely. These persons always
have in their character an unspeakable
kind of pathos. BULWER.


ONE finds something among human
beings that always tends to thrust them
asunder. I grant that envy, pretension,
unrea-onab'eness, ennui, and a thousand
large and small stones of repulsion are
capable of occasioning bitter feeling: 1
grant, also, that they are felt most keenly
exactly when the circle is most confined.
That i; family life. What then ? Is there
no power, mi!d yet energetic, whose efficacy
consists in equalizing and sweetening all,
and changing even evil into good ? Who
will not here remember the doctrine
Apostle, and who has not blessed it a t
.sand times in his life? Love l paietllcr'
aud mild.- Miss BREMER.





SWIFTLY walk over the western wave,
Spirit of night
Out of the misty eastern cave,
Where, all the long and lone daylight,
Thou wovest dreams of joy and fear,
Which makes thee terrible and dear,-
Swift be thy light !

Wrap thy form in a mantle gray,
Blihl with thine hair the eyes of day,
Kiss her until she be wearied out,
Then wander o'er citv, and sea, and land,
Touching all with tine opiate wand-
Conle, long-sought !

When 1 arose and saw the dawn,
I sighed for thee ;
When light rode high and the dew was gone,
And noon lay heavy on flower and tree,
And the weary day turned to his rest,
Lingeingg like an unloved guest, *
I sighed for thee

Thf brother Death came, and cried
Wouldest thou me?



Thy sweet child Sleep, the filmy-eyed,
Murmured like a noontide bee,
Shall I nestle near thy side ?
Wouldst thou me ? And I replied
No, not thee!

Death will come when thou art dead,
Soon, too soon -
Sleep will come when thou art fled ;
Of neither would I ask the boon
I ask of thee, beloved night -
Swift be thine approaching flight,
Come soon, soon! SHELLY.


THE moon was pallid but not faint,
And beautiful as some fair saint
Serenely moving on her way,
In hours of trial and dismay
As if she heard the voice of God,
Unharmed with naked feet she trod,
Upos the hot and burning stars,
As on the gloomy coals and bars
That were to prove her strength and try
Her holiness and her purity.



Romance and Reality.
THE romancer distils life; he makes a
day out of ten years, and out of a hundred
grains of corn draws oe drop of spirit; it
is his trade. The it. lity proceeds in
another manner. lar-ely come the great
events, the powerful scenes of passion.
They belong in every-day life, not to the
rule. but to the exceptions. On that ac-
count, thou good creature! sit not and wail
or thou wouldst suffer tedium. Seek not
the affluence of life without there; create
it in thy own bosom. Love! love the
Heaven, Nature, Wisdom, all that is good
around thee and thy life will become rich;
the sails of its air-ship will fill with the
fresh wind, and so gradually soar up to
the native regions of light and love.



MANY are the poets who have never penned
Their inspiration, and perchance the best;
They felt, and loved and died, but would not
Their thoughts to mear beings ; they compressed
The god within them, and rejoined the stars
Unlaurelled upon earth, but far more blest
Than those who are degraded by the jars
Of passion, and their frailties linked to fame,
Conquerors of high renown, but full of scars.
Many are poets but without the name;
For what is poesy but to create
From overfeeling food or ill ; and aim
At an external life beyond our fate,
And be the new Prometheus of new men,
Bestowing fire from heaven, and then, too late,
Finding the pleasure given repaid with pain,
And vultures to the heart of the bestower,
Who having lavished his high gift in vain,
Lies chained to his lone rock by the sea-shore ?
So be it ; we can bear But thus, all they
Whose intellect is an o'ermastering power,
Which still recoils from its encumbering clay,
Or lightens it to spirit, whatsoever
The form which their creations may essay,
Are bards; BYaoN.



IT was evening, and one of those eve-
nings in which a loving peace breaths
throughout nature, and man is involun-
tarily led to a feeling and sentiment of that
day in which all yet was good. Glowing
and pure, the vault of heaven expanded
itself over the earth; and the earth stood
like a gothic-crowned and happy bride,
beneath the bride-canopy, smiling still, and
in full beauty. The sun shone upon gol-
den corn and ruddy fruits. Thick-foliaged
and hushed the trees mirrored themselves
in the clear lake. Here rose the twitter of
a bird, and there the song of a peaceful
voice. All seemed full of enjoyment.

- --




Is this a time to be dowdy and sad,
When our mother Nature laughs around;
When even the deep blue heavens look glad,
And gladness breaths from the blossoming

There are notes of joy from the hang-bird and
And the gossip of swallows through all the sky
The ground squirrel gaily chippers by his den
And the wilding-bee hums merrily by.

The clouds are at play in the azure space,
And their shadows at play on the bright green
And here they stretch to the frolic chase,
And there they roll on the easy gale.

There's a dance of leaves in that aspen bower
There's a titter of winds in that beechen tree,
There's a smile on the fruit and a smile on the
And a laugh from the brook as it runs to the sea.

And look at the broad-faced sun, how he smiles
On the dewy earth, that smiles in his ray,


On the leaping waters and gay young isles;
Ay, look, and he'll smile thy gloom away.


How bright, how glowing are the waking
dreams of the young of those who bound
into society as the antelope fiom the
hunter's toils, to the freedom of its compan-
ions of those with whom "the bright
freshness of morning lingers; who be-
lieve in the reality of smiles and welcome,
and of tears and adieus; who swear and
mean, eternal friendship, with creatures
sometimes as young, as fair, as fresh, as in-
genuous as themselves; whose hearts leap
as frequently to their lips, as the blushes to
their cheeks; upon whose tongues rest the
words of truth, and whose voices are full
of the bird-like melody of happiness. Such
look out upol the glittering world, and
never di~m of the volcanoes of human
W -_ :-Poo. .. .


interest (stronger perhaps, than human
passion) that threatens at every step to
spring a mine beneath their feet. They
gather, trustingly of the fruits that grow
upon fair trees, in the worldling's gardens
of luxurious pleasures, and instead of the
fieshness and refreshment they dreamed
of- behold, the fruits are filled with dust
and ashes, and the bitterness of deceit!
When the actual comes upon them, they
suffer, not so' much for themselves as for
others; it is anguish, rather than anger.
Their vae is shattered ; the pure and holy
temple erected above the shrine whereat
they worshipped is defiled. They declare
they will dream no more, but -women
especially only wake from one to fall
into another; and yet, if but one be fully
realized in the whole length of life, she may
joyfully say, I have not dreamed in vain."
MRs. S. C. HALL.

__ __ ___ __C I_______ ~ _


THOSE that have no wit themselves,
look upon it in another as an enemy; those
that have, as a rival; few make it their ac-
quaintance, fewer still their friend, however,
it makes poverty honorable, and indigence
respected. Honored, praised and happy
are the ingenious, but seldom rewarded or
enriched; fancy treats her children with
golden dreams and happy deliriums; every
man's land affords a landscape to the pain-
ter, a description or simile for the poet;
even in the mines he may dig for compari-
sons, though not for gold.



LIFE must become light if it will not
change itself into a lethargic sadness; into
an actual death. In this gloomy disposition
of mind. man cannot prepare himself for
immortality: because he understands it
not, and strives not to make himself worthy
of it. We call to mind moments of de-
parted pleasure, more vivedly than the past
hours of sorrow. This is a hint that life
was dear to us. Death must not be re-
garded as a liberation fiom prison; it is
only a step out of the valley, to the top of
the mountain, where we enjoy a more ex-
tended prospect, and where we breathe
lightly out. of the valley, into which, in-
deed, the light and warmth of the sun
penetrated, and where also the love of God
embraces us. Learn properly to under-
stand and love life, if thou wilt rightly
understand and love eternity.




TRUE love has many counterfeits, and in
man at least, possibly requires the touch
and mellowness, if not of time, at least of
many memories- of perfect and tried con-
viction of the faith, the worth, and the
beauty of the heart to which it clings.

THERE are ten thousand tones and signs,
We hear and see, but none defines -
Involuntary sparks of thought,
Which strike from out the heart o'epwought,
SAnd form a strange intelligence,
Alike mysterious and intense,
Which link the burning chain that binds,
Without their will young hearts and minds,
Conveying, as the electric wire,
We know not how the absorbing ire. BYON..




WE may break the laws of God as often
#s we please. and we may evade the laws
of man, provided we do it cunningly, with-
out fear of losing caste; but the laws of
society are sacred, and the woman who
Sneglects them is sentenced ere the crime he
Asummated. What a nice thing it is to
have a number of pretty little conventional
channels for the feelings, where they may
play about safely aind do nobody any harm
-- nly it's a pity they are so shallow it's
ba1 policy, for a strong current sweeps them
araway in an instant.




I SHOT an arrow into the air,
It fell to earth, I knew not where,
For so swift it flew, the sight
Could not follow it in its flight.
I breathed a song into the air,
It fell to earth, I knew not where,
For who has sight so keen and strong
That it ca follow the flight of song ? !
Long, long afterward, in an oak
I found the arrow still unbroke,
And the song fr9m beginning to end
1 found again in the heart of a friend.


Wa ,Js, generally termed prudence, is
seldom other than a cowardly discretion,
or a'le selfishness. The Worldly Prudent
avoids the unhappy, and is sometimes seen
to tread apon the fallen, who, he expe
would rise no more. MRs. NORT
^P", ~



AWAY, away, bear me away,
Into the boundless void, thou mighty wind!
That rushest on thy midnight way,
And leav'st this weary world, far, far, behind!
Away, away, bear me away, away,
To the wide strandless deep,
Ye headlong waters whose mad eddies leap
From the pollution of your bed of clay.

Away, away, bear me away, away,
Into the fountains of eternal light,
Ye rosy clouds! that to my longing sight
Seem melting in the sun's devouring ray! *
Away away Oh, for some mighty blast
To sweep this loathsome life into the past.

- --


The Grave.

How peaceful comes the breeze around
the burial-place of the dead how sacred
seems, even, the long grass waving by the
head-stones of the departed. The soil is
consecrated by graves -'t is the last, quiet
resting-place of earth; 't is the narrow
space which separates us from the awful
mysteries of immortality; 't is the thres-
hold of eternity. Here in long, dreamless
sleep rests the perishing remains of hu-
maniry; and here shall come the first rays
of the resurrection dawn, to arouse the
slumbering ruins. Iere Death once tri-
umphed over life, as he extinguished its
light in the.e dark chambers; but here
shall be another conflict; Death shall re-
tire 'mid his own darkness, when beams
from the "excellent glory" shine through
the opening fissures of the tomb; and bright
spirits come in joy again to assume the
-- ,


once corrupt, now incorruptible tenements
prepared for the pure enjoyments of the
spiritual world. "H OURS OF LIFE."

- 'T is night; yet oh, how beautiful the night!
So beautiful, I would not wish it day ;
But rather night forever, if the nights
Were all like this. How calm, how still the air!
How soft the moonlight! how serene the heavens !
Iow clear the watery mirror spread beneath !
And then how lovely the repose of earth,
Looking tranquility I gaze and am
What I behold I feel a soothing power
Entering my soul, that mildly whispers peace,
And stills the tumult in my troubled breast.


68 THE GOLDI.N P'!:- :.\T.

Bid me not Remember.

OH, bid me not remember now,
For darkness, sin and tears,
Have swept forever from my brow
The light of childhood's years.
Once there were hearts that loved me well,
And joys that deathless seemed to swell -
Those joys have faded from my breast,
Those hearts are silent and at rest.
Then bid me not remember now,
Since darkness, sin and tears
Have swept forever from my brow
The light of childhood's ears.

The stream thlt in its earliest glee
Bounds on its onward track,
If once it reached the bitter sea,
Ye may not call it back.
Nor its stained waters ever bring,
Back to their unpolluted spring;
Nor can) e give again to me,
My youth's light-hearted purity.
Then bid me not remember now ;
For darkness, sin and tears
Have swept forever from my brow
The light of childhood's years.



I STAID too late; forgive the crime -
Unheeded flew the hours;
How noiseless falls the foot of time
That only treads on flowers !

What eye with clear account remarks
The ebbing of the glass,
When all its sands are diamond sparks,
Which dazzle as they pass.
0 who to sober measurement
Time's happy fleetness brings,
When birds of paradise have lent
Their plumage for his wings.


YOUNG maiden who hast merely gone
botanizing into the land of romance, and
there picked up thy knowledge of men
and4 of the world; who, on thy entrance
into society anticipated with a fearful pl~as-


ure that the men will busy thCemelves
about thee. either as the butterliy about the
ro-c. or the spider about the fly a word to
thee. Be at rest : the world is not so fearful.
The men have too much to do with them-
selves. Thou wilt have to experience that
they will enquire no more after thee, than
after the moon, and sometimes even less.
Thou arnmettlhyself. thou of seventeen years
to arrest the storm of life: ah! thou wilt
probablycome to have more to do with its
inaction. But let not thy courage fail;
there are life and love in the world in the
richest abundance, but not often in the form
in which they for the most part are estah-
lished in romances. Miss BREMER.

F lD



AH, mark the strain, sweet sister watch and pray,
Wean thy young stainless heart from earthly
Oh wait not thou till life's blest morning ray
Only o'er withered hopes its radiance flings;
But give to Heaven thy sinless spirit now
E're sorrow's tracery mar thy placid brow.

Gentle and pure thou art yet is thy soul
Fill'd with a maiden's vague and pleasant
Sweet phantasies that mock at thought's control,
Like atoms round thee float, in fancy's beams;
But trust them not young dreamer, bid them flee,
They have deceived all others, and will thee.

Well can I read thy dreams thy gentle heart
Already woman's in its wish to bless,
Now longs for one to whom it may impart
Its untold wealth of hidden tenderness,
And pants to learn the meaning of the thrill
Which wakes when fancy stirs affection's rill.

Thou dreamest too of happiness the deep
And placid joy which poets paint so well;
Alas! man's passions even when they sleep


Like ocean's waves are heaved with secret swell;
And they who hear the frequent half hushed sigh
Know 't is the walling of the storm gone by.

Vain are all such visions could'st thou know
The secrets of a woman's weary lot -
Oh! could'st thou read, upon her pride-veiled
Her wasted tenderness, her love forgot, -
In humbleness of heart thou wouldn't kneel down,
And pray for strength to wear her victim crown.

But thou wilt do as all have done before,
And make thy heart for earthly gods a shrine;
There all affection's priveless treasures pour,
There hope's fair flowers in native garlands
And thou wilt meet the recompense all must
Who give to mortal love their faith and trust.
Mas. EMsunY.



As every flower has its moment of per-
fect beauty, so has a human being moments
in which his highest and loveliest life
blooms forth, in which he appears what he
actually is, what he is in the depth of God's
intentions. Those fleeting revelations -
for there is nothing abiding on the earth -
these are that which the genuine artist
seeks to lay hold of; and therefore it is un-
just to say of a successful portrait, that it
is flattered. Miss BREMER.

The Faithless One.

FAREWELL and when the charm of change
Has sunk, as all must sink, in shade;
When joy, a wearied bird begins
The wing to droop, the plume to fade;

When thou thyself, at length, hast felt
What thou hast made another feel--


The hope that sickens to despair -
The wound that time may sear, not heal.

When thou shalt pine for some fond heart,
To beat in answering thine again ;
Then, false one, think once more on me,
And sigh to think it is in vain. L. E. L.


A THRILL passes over us, whensoever we
read the name of a place where we have once
been happy, but it is the privilege of a tran-
quil state of melancholy to people the mind
with quiet visions of the past, and to em-
body as it were, and localize the picture by
particular features of landscape or even
forms and dispositions of furniture, the new
bitterness of an unmellowed grief leaves no
leisure, no power of such embellishments
of sorrow. Those who involuntarily
dwell upon unhappy thoughts have either
become callous, or were never alive to their
cutest painfulness. They know not the


sensation of utter powerlessness which has
no alternative but esc;l)pe or prostration -
the cowardice of a bleeding and undefended
heart. Every tree or stone that we see has
perhaps the power of calling up a phantom
fiom the accusing past; but we do not think
of the trees, or stones, till we see them -
we are too much occupied by the unwilling
contemplation of the shapes which are ever
present before us, whether with or without


THE first moment in which the heart
suddenly discovers that it is not estimated
as it believed itself to be, whether in love
or in f-iend hip, overwhelms it with a kind
of astonishment very hard to bear. To the
change in the present and the future, it may
perhaps submit without complaining; but
it is hard to be robbed of the past, which



we had believed irrevocably our own,
to look back with di-trutfutl regret to the
words, and looks, and tones, the interchange
of thought, sympathy, confidence, to all of
which a new interpretation is now forcibly
affixed, making us inpatient and ashamed
that we ever lent them any other signifi-
cance; to undo, as it were, by a retrospec-
tive act, the union which we now find had
only an imaginary existence.

The First Time.

THE first time! How much of joy, of
sorrow, of hope, of fear. do those words re-
call! how much of happiness, of misery.
They carry us back, as by a magic charm,
to the days of childhood and vouth. The
first remembered kiss and smile from a
mother's lips, is again warm upon our
check, again sheds light within our heart;
the morning and the evening prayer is


lisped forth, the young face upturned to
catch the only divinity it, as yet, can under-
stand, the love that beams in a mother's
eye. The winding-sheet, the coffin and the
grave follow in quick succession. We look
upon Death for ti first time; the loved one
is borne from our embrace, to the dark 'and
silent tomb. The first sorrow, the first
disappointment Oh, they sink deep with-
in the heart! Years roll on, but their
trace remains for good or ill. The first
love! the love of the young bride for him,
the chosen one, the rich, the precious affee-
tion of her trusting heart for the first time
clothed in words.- The first child! a
mother may have many children, all equally
dear, all equally beloved, but never can she
know, again that joy so undefined, so mix-
ed of smiles and tears that thrilled to her
soul when she folded within her arms her
first-horn child and felt that it was for her
to train it for immortality. The first dere-
liction from virtue to vice! how the blood


tingle.s in the cheek at the thought of it!
No after deed can ever cause such anguish!
It is the nature of the human heart to be-
come hardened to pleasure or to pain;
repetition dulls the brilliant colors with
which anticipation decked our early joys;
repetition sofens the aspect of vice till
gradually, all fear of her is lost. THE
FIRST TIME Oh, let it be guarded against
in all that is evil! Yield not to the first
Temptation, the second will be more easily
rested. MRS. J. THAYER.

The Past.

O, now memory loves to rove
And light the field of the past again,
And bring back thoughts of perished love,
To shine like stars in her magic chain,
Like the wandering dove she floats away,
To hours that ever in sunshine lay,
Bringing the blossoms that then were dear,
And wrung from the bosom with many a tear.
L. P. Sxrra.



The Calm of Temperament.
HAPPY are they whose bosoms are never
shaken with passions, whose blood runs
softly, whose earliest companions are virtue
and peace. If they continue unspotted -
if they fall not small is their merit.

Genius and Talent
CAROLINE showed talent in all she un-
dertook; but Evelyn, despite her simplicity,
had genius, though as yet scarcely de-
veloped; for she had quickness, emotion,
susceptibility, imagination; and the differ-
ence between talent and genius, lies rather
in the heart, than in the head. BULWER.

C..5d 1 2
v ^yO L- \ PST0^



LIFE what is life ? When the tempest
journies through space on strong pinions,
it sings to me a song which finds an echo
in my soul. When the thunder rol$, when
the lightning flames:, then I divine some-
thing of life in its strength and greatness.
But this tame every-day life -little virtues,
little faults, little cares, little joys, little en-
deavors this contracts and stills my spir-
it. Oh! thou flame which consumest me,
what wilt thou There are moments in
which tkou illuminest, but eternities, in
which thou tormentest and burnest me.

a' 8)?,

r, '
i 74




THE fountain mingles with the river,
And the rivers with the ocean;
The winds of heaven mix forever,
With a sweet emotion ;
Nothing in the world is single;
All things by a law divine
In one another's being mingle -
Why not I with thine ?

See the mountains kiss high heaven,
And the waves clasp one another;
No sister flower would be forgiven
If it disdained its brother ;
And the sunlight clasps the earth
And the moonbeams kiss the sea,
What are all these kissings worth
If thou kiss not me ? Samur.

Night and Morning.

So, oh dark mystery of the moral world!
so, unlike the order of the external universe,
glide together, side by side, the shadowy
steeds of Night and Morning. Examinelife



in its own world. the inner one. the practi-
cal one, with the more viih'e, yet airier
anmd le';s substantial system, doing homage
to the sun, to whose throne, afar in the
infinite space. lthe human heart has no
wings to flce. hI life, the mind and the
circumstance. give the two seasons, and
regulate the darkness and the light. Of
two men standing on the same foot of earth,
the one revels in the joyous noon. the other
shudders in the solitude of night. For
Hope and Fortune the day-star is ever
shining. The Anmuth Strathlendes lives
ever in the air. For Care and Penury
night changes not with the ticking of the
clock, or the shadow on the dial. Morning
for the heir, night for the houseless, and
God's eye in both. BULWER.



May Morning.

THE bright May-morning's come again
With balmy air and showers,
And through the wood and in the glen
Is borne the breath of flowers.

And music floats upon the air
And sighs along the plain,
The feathered songsters everywhere
Pour forth their gladsome strain.

Maidens and youths come hail the morn!
The birth of winsome May,
Come twine ye garlands to adorn
Your brows this bright spring day.

Blue violets are over all the plain
And cowslips by the brook -
Come, gather for Love's tairy chain
From every dell and nook.

And as ye twine your fragrant wreath
And sing 3our merry lay
I.et each young, thrilling bosom breathe
A welcome to sweet May.
Sas. J. TaAyR.



FAREWELL that little word has power
To wake the thought that none may know;
A cloud to shade the sunniest hour,
And steep the brightest scenes in woe.

Farewellewell farewell! the heart will feel
What words may never, never tell;
The throbbing brow may not reveal
What broods in memory's mystic cell.

It withers not, that growing thorn;
It passes not. that endless sting;
That swelling tide is onward borne,
Till death shall drain its bitter spring.

But not to Death the power is given
To gild a brighter scene than this -
To twine the wreath by sorrow riven,
And wake the angel smile of peace.

But there are bright and azure fields,
Where willow never droops its head,
Nor wasted grief her form reveals,
Her cypress shades the lonely dead.


The storm is past, the dream is gone, -
The heart has burst its mournful spell, -
The song of love flows gently on,
Nor fears the saddening word Farewell!


THERE is something melancholy, but
pleasing to my mind, in the scenes of Au-
tumn. The withered herbage, the yellow
and falling leaf the cold gusts of wind-
all remind me of the grave. Yet it is not a
gloomy thought. As Autumn, in due sea-
son, is followed by Spring, and nature re-
vives from her desolation and is again
clothed in the richest verdure so, to the
Christian, with the idea of the grave is as-
sociated that of the resurrection, when this
mortal shall put on immortality."

___ __


Rhymeless Poets.
THERE'S many a heart, the soul of song,
Did but the owner know it,
To music's loftiest tones hath strung; -
In all but verse a poet.
Like slumbering echoes lulled by eve,
There's many a spirit lone, that deep
Within the breast may voiceless heave,
And ne'er to thrilled existence leap.
How dreamless swells the dark-sea's breast
Of all her dazzling gems!
Her ocean-stars in radiant rest,
And mermaid diademns.
So sleeps the soul with genius fraught,
In shadowy, dim unknowingness,
While diamond dream and starry thought
Are sparkling in its deep recess.

f ~~ 5, _

^lli^ j


WiY does not everybody, who can af-
ford it, have a geranium in his window ?
It is very cheap its cheapness is next to
nothing, if you raise it from seed. It
sweeens the air, rejoices the eye, links you
with nature and innocence, and is some-
thing to love. And if it cannot love you
in return, it cannot hate; it cannot utter a
haceful thing, even for your neglecting it,
for, though it is all beauty, it has no vanity,
and. such being the case, and living as it
does, purely to do you good and afford you
pleasure, how will you be able to neglect it ?
We receive in imagination, the scent of
these good-natured leaves, which allow you
to carry their perfume on your fingers;
for good-natured they are, in that respect,
above almost all other plants, and fittest
for the hospitalities of your room. The
very feel of the leaf ha. a household warmth
in it, and something analogous to clothing
and comfort. LIEGH HUNT.


An Epigram.
IN the "Loves of the Angels," 't is sung, that
they fled
From the skies, happy mortals to love and to
wed; -
If angels wooed mortals, and thought it no sin,
A mortal forgive, who an angel would win!

WHo loveth not the month of flowers ?
If any such exist, it has never been my for-
tune to meet with one, and I fain would
hope I never may. For myself, I love this
month with its beauty and gladness, and
its ever welcome flowers. It is like the
heart of childhood, ever revealing its
heavenly birth in the music of its joyous-
ness. And then, too, the calm, still twilight
hour, when the voices of the day are hush-
ed, and there is no tone heard save the low
voice of the past as it speaketh to the soul.


The deepening shadow, the floating cloud,
the balmy breeze, all awaken the hidden
feelings of the soul, and attune our heai ts
to the melody of praise. Gladness dwell-
eth within the bowers of June, and its roses
are fair to view. Even the bonnie white
rose," which "is withering and a," is now
in beauty robed, emblem of "sadness"
though it be. The rose hath ever been
Love's token flower," yet this pale blossom
speaks of sadness," alas! that they should
be so often linked.

The St. Lawrence.
FROM the moment the sun is down,
every thing becomes silent on the shore,
which our windows overlook, and the mux-
murs of the broad St. Lawrence, more thaA,
two miles wide immediately before us, ar 1


a little way to the right, spreading to five
or six milc in bread ,h, are sometimes for
a i hour the only sounds that arrest our at-
tentior. Every evening 4ince we have been
here, black clouds and splendid moonlight
have hung over, and embelli-hed this tran-
quil scene; and on two of tlhee evenings
we have been attracted to the window, by
the plaintive Canadian boat-song. In
one instance it arose from a solitary voy-
ager, floating in his light canoe which oc-
casionally appeared and disappeared on the
sparkling river, and in its distant course
seemed no larger than some sportive insect.
In another instance, a large boat with more
numerous and less melodious voices, not
indeed in perfect harmony, passed nearer
to the shore, and gave additional life to the
scene. A few moments after the moon
broke out from a throne of dark clouds,
and seemed to convert the whole expanse
of water into one vast sheet of glittering
silver, and in the very brightest spot, at the


distance of more than a ini!e. again appear-
ed a solitary boat, but too distant to admit
of our hearing the song, with which the
boatman was probably solacing his lonely
course. SILLIMAN.


THERE are two distinct sorts of what we
call bashfulness; this. the awkwardness of
a booby, which a few steps into the world
will convert into the pertness of a coxcomb;
that, a consciousness, which the most deli-
cate feelings produce, and the most exten-
sive knowledge cannot always remove.


A Farewell to America.

FAREWELL my more than fatherland!
Home of my heart and friends adieu!
Lingering beside some foreign strand,
How oft shall I remember you!
How often, o'er the waters blue,
Send back a sigh to those I leave,
The loving and beloved few,
Who grieve for me, for whom I grieve!

We part! no matter how we part,
There are some thoughts we utter not,
Deep treasured in our inmost heart
Never revealed, and ne'er forgot!
Why murmur at the common lot ?
We part I speak not of the pain,-
But when shall I each lovely spot
And each loved face behold again ?

It must be months, it may be years, -
It may but no! I will not fill
Fond hearts with gloom,- fond eyes with tears,
Curious to shape uncertain ill "
Though humble, few and far, yet, still
Those hearts and eyes are ever dear;
Their's is the love no time can chill,
The truth no chance or change can sear.


All I have seen, and all I see,
Only endears them more and more;
Friends cool, hopes fade, and hours flee,
Affection lives when all is o'er !
Farewell my more than native shore!
I do not seek or hope to find,
Roam where I will, what I deplore
To leave with them and thee behind!
R. H. WaMa.

The Lover.

THITHER daily, in rain and sunshine,
came the solitary lover, as a bird that
seeks its young in the deserted nest: again
and again he haunted the spot where he had
strayed with the lost one; again and again
murmured his passionate vows beneath the
fast-fading limes. Are those vows destined
to be ratified or annulled ? Will the absent
forget, or the lingerer be consoled ? Had
the characters of that young romance been
lightly stamped on the fancy, where, once
obliterated, they are erased forever; or



were they graven deep in tho.e tablets
where the wi iting. even when invilib'. ex-
ists still, and revives, sweet letter by letter
when the light and the warmth borrowed
fi-om one b'ight presence are applied to that
faithful record ? There is but one wizard
to disclose that secret, as all others : tle
old grave-diggers, whose church-iard is
the earth whose trade is to ftid burial-
places for passions that seemed immortal -
disintering the ashes of some long crum-
bling memory, to hollow out the dark bed
of some new-cherished hope: I e whllo de-
termines all things, and prophecies none
Sfor his oracles are uncomprehended till tie
doom is sealed: Ile. who in the bloom of
the fairest affection, detects the hectic that
consumes it, and while the hymn rings at
the altar. marks with his joyless eye the
grave for the bridal vow. Wherever is the
sepulchre there is thy temple, oh melan-
choly Time I BULWER.



I am not Old.

I AM not old though years have cast
Their shadows on my way ;
I am not old though youth has passed
On rapid wings away.
For in my heart a fountain flows
And round it pleasant thoughts repose;
And si mpathies and feelings high,
Spring like the stars on evening's sky.

I am not old time may have set
His signal on my brow,"
And some faint furrows there have met,
Which care may deepen now:
Yet love, fond love, a chaplet weaves
Of fresh young buds and verdant leaves;
And still in fancy I can twine
Thoughts, sweet as flowers, that once were mine.

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