The Departed. The departed! the departed! And they glide above our memories But where the cheerful lights of home The good, the brave, the beautiful! In the cities of the dead! I look around and feel the awe Of one who walks alone, I start to hear the stirring sounds For the voice of the departed Is borne upon the breeze. That solemn voice! it mingles with Can never be so dear to me, As their remembered words. I sometimes dream their pleasant 'smiles I know that they are happy, To think that they are gone. The departed! the departed! And they glide above our memories, But where the cheerful lights of home The departed, the departed Can never more return! PARK BENJAMIN. The Motherless. I never knew what 't was to have To cheer me when I would be grave I never felt upon my cheek And never, never heard her speak She never comes at morning light, Nor when I kneel me down to pray Beside my little chair. I'm sure that I would like to sit All day beside her seat, And watch her fingers, as they knit And then, perhaps she 'd read to me I see the other girls around I cannot think what I have done, · In yonder quiet burial ground, — And violets and roses red And pinks have there been put. One day I wandered there alone, I know not how or why, And leaned against that tallest stone, 'T was twice as tall as I. Some letters were upon its face; I saw them as I stood, And thought it would be nice to trace Their meaning, if I could. A little silver pen I had, My teacher's premium, - Then came a little "of " and then I put my hand upon my head To think what it could mean, Now daily when the sun hath gone, Beneath the willow tree. With many tears amid my prayer, For I suppose it rises there J. L. CHESTER. |