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THE CHILD AND THE MOURNERS. | For she, but few sad days before,

A LITTLE child, beneath a tree,
Sat and chanted cheerily

A little song, a pleasant song,
Which was, she sang it all day
long,

"When the wind blows the blossoms fall,

But a good God reigns over all!”

There passed a lady by the way,
Moaning in the face of day:
There were tears upon her cheek,
Grief in her heart too great to speak;
Her husband died but yester-morn,
And left her in the world forlorn.

She stopped and listened to the child. That look'd to Heaven, and, singing, smiled;

And saw not, for her own despair, Another lady. young and fair, Who, also passing, stopped to hear The infant's anthem ringing clear.

Had lost the little babe she bore;
And grief was heavy at her soul,
As that sweet memory o'er her stole,
And showed how bright had been the
past,

The present drear and overcast.

And as they stood beneath the tree,
Listening, soothed, and placidly,
A youth came by, whose sunken eyes,
Spake of a load of miseries;
And he, arrested like the twain,
Stopped to listen to the strain.

Death had bowed the youthful head Of his bride beloved, his bride unwed: Her marriage robes were fitted on, Her fair young face with blushes shone,

When the Destroyer smote her low, And left the lover to his woe.

And these three listened to the song Silver-toned, and sweet, and strong,

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O YE tears! O ye tears! that have long refused to flow,

Ye are welcome to my heart-thawing, thawing, like the snow;

I feel the hard clod soften, and the early snowdrops spring, And the healing fountains gush, and the wildernesses sing.

O ye tears! O ye tears! I am thankful that ye run;

Though ye trickle in the darkness, ye shall glitter in the sun. The rainbow cannot shine if the rain refuse to fall,

And the eyes that cannot weep are the saddest eyes of all.

O ye tears! O ye tears! till I felt you on my cheek,

I was selfish in my sorrow, I was stubborn, I was weak.

Ye have given me strength to conquer, and I stand erect and free,

And know that I am human by the light of sympathy.

O ye tears! O ye tears! ye relieve me of my pain;

The barren rock of pride has been
stricken once again:
Like the rock that Moses smote, amid
Horeb's burning sand,

It yields the flowing water to make gladness in the land.

EXTRACT FROM "A REVERIE IN THE GRASS."

OH, beautiful green grass! Earthcovering fair!

What shall be sung of thee, nor bright, nor rare,

Nor

highly thought of? Long green grass that waves

By the wayside, over the ancient

graves,

Or shoulders of the mountain looming high,

[esty, Or skulls of rocks, bald in their maj

There is light upon my path, there is Except for thee, that in the crevices Liv'st on the nurture of the sun and

sunshine in my heart,

And the leaf and fruit of life shall

not utterly depart;

Ye restore to me the freshness and the bloom of long ago

O ye tears! happy tears! I am thankful that ye flow!

A QUESTION ANSWERED. WHAT to do to make thy fame

Live beyond thee in the tomb? And thine honorable name

Shine, a star, through history's gloom?

Seize the Spirit of thy Time,

Take the measure of his height, Look into his eyes sublime,

And imbue thee with their light. Know his words ere they are spoken, And with utterance loud and clear, Firm, persuasive, and unbroken,

Breathe them in the people's ear.

Think whate'er the Spirit thinks,
Feel thyself whate'er he feels,
Drink at fountains where he drinks,
And reveal what he reveals.
And whate'er thy medium be,
Canvas, stone, or printed sheet,
Fiction, or philosophy,

Or a ballad for the street;

Or, perchance, with passion fraught, Spoken words, like lightnings thrown,

Tell the people all thy thought,

And the world shall be thine own!

breeze;

Adorner of the nude rude breast of hills,

Mantle of meadows, fringe of gushing rills,

Humblest of all the humble, thou shalt be,

If to none else, exalted unto me, And for a time, a type of joy on

earth

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