Oh, what heed I the joys of Spring!

One form I seek in vain ;

That one, though near, yet ever far,
Heeds not my spirit's pain.
Vainly I stretch my longing arms

To clasp her image fair,-
The vision flies, and I am left

In sad and lone despair.

Oh, come, thou sweet and winsome one,
Come, leave thy lordly towers,

And I'll gather, and strew beneath thy feet,
Spring's brightest, sweetest flowers.

List to the streamlet's ripple clear,

And the birds in the echoing grove,

Space is there in the lowliest cot

For happiness and love.

HÖLTY.

DEATH.

SAVIOUR, by Thy dying wounds, strengthen Thou my

heart

In my last hour, when Thy voice calls me to depart; When Death stands beside my couch, and my cheek grows pale,

While my fate, for weal or woe, trembles in the scale.

Shadows of my faults, depart; darken not that hour

With the thought of sins that once o'er my soul had

power.

Then, o'ershadow me, O Peace, with thy soft still wings, While my failing eyes grow dim to all earthly things.

Thou, my guardian spirit, come, from the heavenly throne,

Bringing me the victor's crown when the strife is done;

Waft around the breath of heaven with thy sacred

palm,

Soothe, oh soothe my fainting soul with thine angel calm.

Through the trackless realms of light guide my upward

way,

Toward that angel paradise of eternal day,

Where my mother's gentle soul long hath dwelt in

peace,

There, O Guardian Spirit, there, let my wanderings

cease.

Where the brothers I have loved, clad in robes of light, Sport amid the heavenly bowers, beautiful and bright; Beautiful and bright they stand, 'mid the angel throng, Sweetly singing evermore their celestial song.

Spirits of the loved and lost, would I now could soar,
Free to join your angel band on the distant shore,
Free to kneel, e'en now, with you, round the Saviour's
throne,

Singing praises, evermore, to the Eternal One.

TO THE MOON.

HERE, through these old familiar shades,
How canst thou shine so bright and clear,
Where he who loves thee once was blest
With dreams so fleeting, yet so dear?

Veil, veil thy silver ray, and beam
Softly, as though it glimmered here
Upon the cold and faded wreath

That decks a young bride's early bier.

As brightly, through this leafy grove,
Thou glancest, as in days of yore,
Yet those two glad young hearts shall stray
Beneath its shade, ah ! nevermore.

Dark fate hath made all desolate,

Where her sweet presence used to be, And not e'en grief's most passionate tears

Can call my darling back to me.

R

Yet, should her footsteps wander round My resting-place in days to come,

Beam then, with sad and softened ray, Upon the flowers that deck my tomb. And it may be that she will weep,

And to her soft cheek fondly press A rose plucked from my lonely grave, In sad regretful tenderness.