Tell her that wastes her time on me, When I resemble her to thee, How sweet and fair she seems to be. Then die, that she The common fate of all things rare May read in thee; How small a part of time they share, Yet, though thou fade, From thy dead leaves let fragrance rise, That goodness time's rude hand defies; Beautiful! Yes; but the blush will fade, WALLER. The light grow dim which the blue eyes wear, The gloss will vanish from curl and braid, And the sunbeam die in the waving hair. Gather earth's glory and bloom within, That the soul may be bright when youth is past. MRS. OSGOOD. HONEYSUCKLE. Lonicera. LANGUAGE-FIDELITY. Be true to me! Be as the star that burns Calm and unchangéd in the midnight air, Be true to me! Not always may the bloom Of hope and gladness on my cheeks remain; And when dark thoughts shall shade my soul with gloom, Thy tender accents still may soothe its pain: Be true to me! ANSWER. I do not promise that our life Shall know no shade on heart or brow; Would mock the falsehood of such vow. But when the clouds of pain and care If we love one another, ΑΝΟΝ ELIZA COOK. Nothing, in truth, can harm us, whatever Mischances may happen. LONGFELLOW. HONEYSUCKLE, WILD. Azalea Procumbens. LANGUAGE-INCONSTANCY. INCONSTANT! are the waters so, That fall in showers on hill and plain, Pray, are there changes in the sky, The winds, or in our summer weather? Will beat both clouds and winds together: Fit type of my inconstancy. My heart too firmly trusted, fondly gave I had no wish but thee, and only thee: ANON. PERCIVAL. Holy St. Francis! what a change is here! WITH every pleasing, every prudent part, As never yet to love, or to be loved. POPE. I live among the cold, the false, As these I most condemn : I borrow others' likeness, till On thy forehead sitteth Pride, AYON. BARRY CORNWALL. A NEW YEAR'S COLLOQUY WITH TIME. ELEVEN O'clock at night! But another hour, and all that remains of the present year will have been borne upon the tireless wing of Father Time into the great gulf of eternity; and the old fellow will have turned up his glass again, ground his scythe, and laid hold of the new year; prepared to roll it onward, evolving the future from the lapse of every moment, until he shall see it safely deposited in the great grave of the past, which swallows all things. "Thou art a jolly old fellow, Father Time! Give us thy hand, and ere the bright sun of the first morning of the new year shines cheerfully over the grave of its departed brother, let us be a little sociable, and talk of the past. Do not be crusty; you need not stop in your onward march. I myself am somewhat of a traveller, and will walk an hour with you; only keep that confounded old scythe out of the way, which, since I first saw it pictured upon the cover of the Farmer's Almanac, along with the matter-of-fact couplet, — Time cuts down all, I never could look at without shuddering. "Thou hast visited all countries and all climes; thou hast been in strange lands, and beheld many |