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Till thou awok'st-then to thine eye
Thy whole heart leapt in ecstasy!

And lovely is that heart of thine,
Or sure these eyes could never shine
With such a wild, yet bashful glee,
Gay, half-o'ercome timidity!
Nature has breathed into thy face
A spirit of unconscious grace;
A spirit that lies never still,

And makes thee joyous 'gainst thy will.
As, sometimes o'er a sleeping lake
Soft airs a gentle rippling make,
Till, ere we know, the strangers fly,
And water blends again with sky.

Oh, happy sprite! didst thou but know
What pleasures through my being flow
From thy soft eyes, a holier feeling
From their blue light could ne'er be stealing,
But thou wouldst be more loth to part,

And give me more of that glad heart!

Oh,

gone thou art! and bearest hence The glory of thy innocence.

But with deep joy I breathe the air

That kissed thy cheek and fanned thy hair, And feel though fate our lives must sever, Yet shall thy image live for ever!

CARPE DIEM.

BARRY CORNWALL.

No care, no labour for the child!
Ever let him laugh and run,
After shadows in the sun,-
Amidst breezes free and wild,
Free and all as wild as they,
And happy as a summer's day!

Err we not, when we constrain
The tender infant, with much pain,
Its early, natural course to leave,
And teach its heart (too soon) to grieve?
Why, grief must come ! No fear, lest life
Will pass without some care and strife,-
Enough to teach whoe'er will learn
That human lesson, dark and stern,
That here we come to bear-(within)
The pain of our ancestral sin.
Sorrow will come: but joy may fly,
(That sun of our uncertain sky,)
And leave us in the darkness wild-

Then-gather the roses," happy child!

And sing, and laugh, and dance-and tread
Cara, the serpent on its head;

And press the sweets from all the flowers,
And throughout the sunshine hours!

THE TWO DREAMERS.

WISS WILLIAMS,

EXTRACT.]

I saw a little child;

The smile of heaven was on him he was fraught
With innocence and trust-just in the dew
And sparkle of existence; and, methought,
Familiar with his mind my spirit grew,
Felt with his feelings, saw with his clear eyes,
And then I know that I had entered in
To one of nature's loveliest sanctuaries.

Devotion at such shrine might well begin.

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But meek submission soon her power renewed,

And patient smiles, by tears but made more bright,

Confessed that God's decree was wise, and good,

and right.

It was a winter's evening,-clear, but still; Bright was the fire, and bright the silvery beam

Of the fair moon shone on the window-sill,
And parlour-floor ;-the softly mingled gleam
Of fire and moonlight suited well a theme
Of pensive converse unallied to gloom ;
Ours varied like the subjects of a dream,

And turned at last upon the silent tomb, Earth's goal for hoary age, and beauty's smiling bloom.

We talked of life's last hour,—the varied forms And features it assumes; how some men die As sets the sun when dark clouds threaten storins, And starless nights; others, whose evening sky

Resembles those which to the outward eye

Seem full of promise;-and with softened tone, At seasons checked by no ungrateful sigh,

The death of one sweet grandchild of his own Was by that hoary man most tenderly made known.

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