When deeds of other days are rushing O'er my mental vision free;

And feeling's waters forth are gushing, Then, my love, I'll think of thee.

When the weary sun, retiring,
Seeks in peace his evening rest,
And his latest beams expiring,
Fade upon the glorious west;
When the twilight dews are shedding
Balmy tears on flower and tree,
And grief upon my heart is spreading,
Then, my love, I'll think of thee.

When the star of eve is sinking Down the blue and brilliant sky, When the myriad orbs are blinking, Weary of their watch on high; When the brimming fount of feeling, Sorrow-smitten, gushes free;

All its hidden depths revealing,

Then, my love, I'll think of thee.

THE STREAMS.

BY J. BARBER.

THE streams!-how pure, how beautiful!
How holy do they seem,

When sombre twilight's shadow cool
Subdues their golden gleam,
Where, in the willow-curtained pool,
The wave-tired waters dream!

Where by the alder-circled cove
And round the reedy isle,
The peering wild-fowl move
In many a shadowy file,
And swallows dimple as they rove
The silent lapse the while.

River! where once in thoughtless mood

I cast the whistling line,

Above thy liquid solitude

No more my paddles shine;

My oar is in the world's fierce flood,

More dangerous than thine.

But though life's flowers their leaves unclose Beneath its vernal beams,

Yet memory from its whelming snows

A blossom oft redeems,

And wafts the scent of spring's first rose Athwart our winter dreams:

And thus, although youth's locks of gold
Are turning silver-gray,
Visions of boyhood's pastime bold

Around me seem to play,

And, by the streams I loved of old,
My soul makes holiday.

THE GIFT.

BY JAMES HALL.

TAKE, oh take the gift I bring!
Not the blushing rose of spring,
Not a gem from India's cave,
Not the coral of the wave,

Not a wreath to deck thy brow,
Not a ring to bind thy vow-
Brighter is the gift I bring,
Friendship's purest offering.

Take the Book! oh may it be
Treasured long and dear by thee.
Wealth may buy thee richer toys,
Love may weave thee brighter joys,

Hope may sing a sweeter lay,
Pleasure shed a softer ray;

But not wealth nor love may twine,
Wreath so pure, as this of mine;

Hope nor pleasure spread a hue
Half so lasting, half so true-
Keep, oh keep the gift I bring,
It is friendship's offering!

I'VE LOVED BEFORE NOW.

BY JAMES LAWSON.

I'VE loved before now-like the wandering bee,

I have sipped from each flow'ret all thoughtless and free
I've loved, did I say? No! In idle romance,
Like the fool I have basked in the loveliest glance.

I've loved before now, for an hour or a day,
But my love, like the zephyr, soon flitted away.
I've loved, did I say? No! 'Twas fancy alone;
If I paused but to think, the illusion had flown.

I've loved before now-'twas a bright and brief dream,
That as swiftly evanished as stars on the stream.
I've loved, did I say? No! My heart I beguile,
For I ne'er loved, dear maiden, till sunned in thy smile

Then come to this heart, and believe me, no more
My affections shall wander-I dearly adore;

Thinkest thou I can change? No! But steadfast in truth,

I will love thee in age, with the ardour of youth.

CUPID'S DEFIANCE.

BY ANN S. STEPHENS.

THINK Ye to fetter Love with gold?
Ah no, no!

With brow of care and features old?

With pulseless veins and bosom cold?
Ah no, no!

Enchain the star

That gleams afar,

Withhold the breezes from the tree;
Forbid the heart

To act its part,

Then hope with gold to fetter me.

Could Love an humble captive be?

Ah no, no!

The heart is Cupid's monarchy;

No gold is in his treasury.

Ah no, no!