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The twilight hour is over!
In busier homes than mine

I can see the shadows crossing
Athwart the taper's shine;
I hear the roll of chariots

And the tread of homeward feet, And the lamps' long rows of splendour Gleam through the misty street.

No more I mark the objects

cold and cheerless room;
The fire's unheeded embers

Have sunk—and all is gloom;
But I know where hang your pictures
Against the silent wall,

And my eyes turn sadly towards them,

Though I hope I hope through all. By the summons to that mother,

Whose fondness fate beguiled, When the tyrant's gentle daughter

Saved her river-floating child;-
By the sudden joy which bounded

In the banished Hagar's heart,
When she saw the gushing fountain
From the sandy desert start ;-
By the living smile which greeted
The lonely one of Nain,


When her long last watch was over,

And her hope seemed wild and vain ;—

By all the tender mercy

God hath shown to human grief,

When fate or man's perverseness
Denied and barred relief,-

By the helpless woe which taught me
To look to Him alone,
From the vain appeals for justice

And wild efforts of my own,—
By thy light-thou unseen future,

And thy tears-thou bitter past,
I will hope--though all forsake me—
In His mercy to the last!


WE have been friends together,

In sunshine and in shade,

Since first beneath the chestnut trees

In infancy we played.

But coldness dwells within thy heart→→
A cloud is on thy brow;
We have been friends together—
Shall a light word part us now?

We have been gay together;

We have laughed at little jests:
For the fount of hope was gushing,

Warm and joyous, in our breasts.
But laughter now hath fled thy lip,

And sullen glooms thy brow:
We have been gay together—

Shall a light word part us now?

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We have been sad together—
We have wept, with bitter tears,

O'er the grass-grown graves, where slumbered
The hopes of early years.

The voices which are silent there
Would bid thee clear thy brow;
We have been sad together-
O! what shall part us now?



We stand among the fallen leaves,

Young children at our play,

And laugh to see the yellow things
Go rustling on their way:
Right merrily we hunt them down,
The autumn winds and we,
Nor pause to gaze
where snow-drifts lie,

Or sunbeams gild the tree:
With dancing feet we leap along

Where withered boughs are strown; Nor past nor future checks our songThe present is our own.

We stand among the fallen leaves

In youth's enchanted springWhen hope (who wearies at the last) First spreads her eagle wing.

We tread with steps of conscious strength

Beneath the leafless trees,

And the colour kindles in our cheek

As blows the winter breeze;

While, gazing towards the cold gray sky,
Clouded with snow and rain,
We wish the old year all passed by,
And the young spring come again.

We stand among the fallen leaves

In manhood's haughty primeWhen first our pausing hearts begin

To love "the olden time;"
And, as we gaze, we sigh to think
How many a year hath passed

Since 'neath those cold and faded trees
Our footsteps wandered last;
And old companions—now perchance
Estranged, forgot, or dead-
Come round us, as those autumn leaves
Are crushed beneath our tread.

We stand among the fallen leaves
In our own autumn day—
And, tottering on with feeble steps,
Pursue our cheerless way.
We look not back-too long ago
Hath all we loved been lost;
Nor forward-for we may not live

To see our new hope crossed:
But on we go-the sun's faint beam

A feeble warmth impartsChildhood without its joy returnsThe present fills our hearts!

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YOUNG Rory O'More courted Kathleen bawn—

He was bold as the hawk, and she soft as the dawn; He wished in his heart pretty Kathleen to please, And he thought the best way to do that was to tease. "Now, Rory, be aisy," sweet Kathleen would cry, Reproof on her lip, but a smile in her eye—

'With your tricks, I don't know, in throth, what I'm about;

Samuel Lover.

Faith, you've teased till I've put on my cloak inside out." "Och! jewel," says Rory, "that same is the way You've thrated my heart for this many a day; And 'tis plazed that I am, and why not, to be sure? For 'tis all for good luck," says bold Rory O'More.


'Indeed, then,” says Kathleen, "don't think of the like, For I half gave a promise to soothering Mike;

The ground that I walk on he loves, I'll be bound”"Faith!" says Rory, "I'd rather love you than the ground." "Now, Rory, I'll cry if you don't let me go;

Sure I dream every night that I'm hating you so!"

"Och!" says Rory, "that same I'm delighted to hear,
For dhrames always go by conthraries, my dear.
Och! jewel, keep dhraming that same till you die,
And bright morning will give dirty night the black lie!
And 'tis plazed that I am, and why not, to be sure?
Since 'tis all for good luck," says bold Rory O'More.

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