Thou shouldst be with us when the sun descending With us at noontide in some grassy lair, Hid in its green depths, like a folded flower, The rustic meal with merry heart to share, Far from the grave restraints of courtlier bower; With us to wake the smile and prompt the song, Wing the sad hour, the pleasant one prolong. Come to us, bright one-sunbeam of the heart! And the glad household-welcome-" Here art thou!" SONG. RYAN. Он! where is love? With yonder silv'ry light 'tis blended, When far above, The radiant moon shineth! But when she declineth, Then love like her reign is ended! Oh! where is love? 'Tis in the beauteous rainbow beaming! And doth remove From him that pursueth, 'Till the chase he rueth, And he finds he hath been dreaming! Oh! where is love? 'Tis in the short-lived meteor glowing The stream above; And affection ceaseth As that light decreaseth, Or sinks in the streamlet flowing! STANZAS. ΑΝΟΝΥMOUS. WHEN the voices are gone And the faces we look for That world that we dreamt of That we pictured as bright, All the glitter that dazzled, Shows the world but a desert, Our childhood is fleet, As a dream of the night; And manhood soon ripens And age drops to dust, Like the leaves on the gale. Thus, year after year, Life's enchantments decay; The glow of the spirits, So buoyantly gay, Or chastened by woe, But man has a spirit The world cannot bind, Where the voices we loved THE HISTORY OF A LIFE. BARRY CORNWALL. Day dawned. Within a curtained room, Day closed. A child had seen the light. Springs came. The lady's grave was green, Years fled. He wore a manly face, And then! He died! Behold before ye Humanity's poor sum and story;- THE LOVE OF OTHER DAYS. MRS. NORTON. 'Tis past! we've learned to live apart; Perhaps I may! we laugh at jests Some buried friend at random made: Peace steals within our grieving breasts, As sunbeams pierce the forest shade : We learn to fling all mourning byEven that which clothed our memory! Therefore I do believe this woe. Like other things, will fade and pass; And my crush'd heart spring up and blow, Like flowers among the trodden grass: But ere I love, it must be long- Ere my accustomed eye can seek In some new, unfamiliar face, |