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Each rustling of the forest tree,

That's waked by gentle zephyrs bland, Bears in its murm'ring sound to me,

Some vision of my native land! Then give me back my forest shade,

Where once I roamed so blithe and gay, Wherexwith my dusky mates 1 strayed,

In childhood's blest and happy day.

MY LIFE IS LIKE THE SUMMER ROSE.

BY E. H. WILDE.

My life is like the summer rose

That opens to the morning sky,
But ere the shades of evening close,
Is scattered on the ground to die:
But on that rose's humble bed
The sweetest dews of night are shed,
As if she wept such waste to see—
But none shall weep a tear for me.

My life is like the autumn leaf,
That trembles in the moon's pale ray;

Its hold is frail—its date is brief—
Restless, and soon to pass away:
Yet ne'er that leaf shall fall and fade,
The parent tree shall mourn its shade,
The winds bewail the leafless tree—
But none shall breathe a sigh for me.

My life is like the print which feet

Have left on Tempe's desert strand-
Soon as the rising tide shall beat,

His track will vanish from the sand;
Yet, as if grieving to efface
All vestige of the human race,
On that lone shore loud moans the sea—
But none shall e'er lament for me 1

THE MERMAID'S CAVE.

BY MISS H. F. GOULD.

Come, mariner, down in the deep with me,

And hide thee under the wave;
For I have a bed of coral for thee,
And quiet and sound shall thy slumbers be,

In a cell of the mermaid's cave.

And she who is waiting with cheek so pale,

At the tempest and ocean's roar; And weeps when she hears the menacing gale, Or sighs to behold her mariner's sail,

Come whitening up to the shore;

She has not long to linger for thee,

Her sorrows will soon be o'er,
For the cord shall be broken, the prisoners free,
Her eye shall close, and her dreams will be

So sweet, she will wake no more.

I LEFT THEE WHERE I FOUND THEE, LOVE.

BY MRS. HARRIET MUZZY.

I Left thee where I found thee, love,

Throned gaily in those laughing eyes;
Twere folly to have bound thee, love,

For love is loveliest while he flies.
'Twas safest, best to leave thee, love.

For flight may end both hopes and fears;
I did not wish to grieve thee, love,

For love's resistless when in tears.

At distance I may view thee, love,

Unchecked by glances, smiles, or sighs;
Thou didst not dream I knew thee, love,

So wrapped in friendship's deep disguise.
No splendid shrine I made thee, love,

Thy presence hallowed every spot;
No kind farewell I bade thee, love,

For love's last look is ne'er forgot. WHEN MORNING, LIKE A BLUSHING BRIDE.

BY F. HILL.

When morning, like a blushing bride,
Looks o'er the earth and sea, love,

And to their homes night spirits glide,
Oh, then I'll think of thee, love.

And every mirrored orb that glides

Across the summer sea, love,
Like silvery glances on our dreams,

Shall wake a thought of thee, love.

Then fare thee well, and bear with thee
This smile—for not one tear, love,

Shall dim thy precious memory,
So fondly treasured here, love.

For oh! these eyes with fond truth shine,
And this fond melting heart, love,

Declare that I am ever thine,
That still mine own thou art, love.

THERE'S BEAUTY IN THE DEEP.

BY J. a. C. BRAINARD.

There's beauty in the deep:— The wave is bluer than the sky; And, though the light shine bright on high, More softly do the sea-gems glow That sparkle in the depths below; The rainbow's tints are only made When on the waters they are laid, And sun and moon most sweetly shine Upon the ocean's level brine.

There's beauty in the deep.

There's music in the deep:—
It is not in the surf's rough roar,
Nor in the whispering, shelly shore—
They are but earthly sounds, that tell
How little of the sea-nymph's shell,
That sends its loud, clear note abroad,
Or winds its softness through the flood,
Echoes through groves with coral gay,
And dies, on spongy banks, away.

There's music in the deep.

There's quiet in the deep :— Above, let tides and tempests rave, And earth-bor n whirlwinds wake the wave;

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