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IF thou dost bid thy friend farewell,
“I do not rage ngainst his high decree,
The brazen gates ground sullenly ajar, And upward, joyous, like a rising star, She rose and vanished in the ether far.
O, wae's mc for the hour, Willic,
When we thegither met,
That our first tryst was set !
Where we were wont to gae,
That gart me luve thee sae !
I downa seek to blanie;
And dree a warld's shame!
And hạilin' ower your chin :
For sorrow, and for sin ?
And sick wi' a' I sce,
Or be as I should be.
The heart that still is thine,
Ye said was red langsyne.
A sair stoun' through my heart ;
Thy brow ere we twa pairt. Anither, and anither yet!
How fast my life-strings break !Fareweel' fareweel! through yon kirk-yard
Step lichtly for my sake ! The lav'rock in the lift, Willie,
That lilts far ower our beid,
Abune the clay.cauld deid ;
Widew-craps shimmerin' sheen,
As warld has seldom seen.
On land where'er ye be ;
That ne'er luvit ane but thee !
That file my yellow hair,
Ye liever sall kiss mair!
But soon adown the dying sunset sailing,
She sobbed, “I found him by the summer sea
She wept, “ Now let my punishment begin !
The angel answered, “Nay, sad soul, go higher !
DEATH AND THE YOUTH. “Not yet, the flowers are in my path,
The sun is in the sky;
I cannot bear to die.
“Not vet, I never knew till now
How precious life could be ; My heart is full of love, O Death!
I cannot come with thee!”
A WOMAN'S LOVE.
A SENTINEL angel, sitting high in glory, Heard this shrill wail ring out from Purgatory : “ Have mercy, iniyhty angel, liear my story!
But Love and Hope, enchanted twain,
Passed in their falschood by ; Death came again, and then he said,
“I'm ready now to die !"
LETITIA ELIZABETH LAVDOX
BEREAVEMENT AND DEATH.
But a fair maiden, in her Father's mansion,
Clothed with celestial grace ;
Shall we behold her face.
And though, at times, impetuous with enotion
And anguish long suppressed,
That cannot be at rest,
We will be patient, and assuage the feeling
We may not wholly stay ;
The grief that must have way.
Assume this dark disguise.
HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW.
We see but dimly through the mists and vapors;
When the soft green buds are bursting out,
And up on the south-wind comes a shout
In the mild spring evening gray.
Sturdy of heart and stout of limb, She is not dead, — the child of our affection, From eyes that drew half their light from But gone unto that school
him, Where she no longer needs our poor protection, And put low, low underneath the clay, And Christ himself doth rule.
In his spring, on this spring day.