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, 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! When sombre twilight's shadow cool Where by the alder-circled cove 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 Around me seem to play, And, by the streams I loved of old, THE GIFT. BY JAMES HALL. TAKE, oh take the gift I bring! Not a wreath to deck thy brow, Take the Book! oh may it be Hope may sing a sweeter lay, But not wealth nor love may twine, Hope nor pleasure spread a hue 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 before now, for an hour or a day, I've loved before now-'twas a bright and brief dream, Then come to this heart, and believe me, no more 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? With brow of care and features old? With pulseless veins and bosom cold? Enchain the star That gleams afar, Withhold the breezes from the tree; 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! |