The big tear stood in her downcast eye, "The gathered rose, and the stolen heart, Oh! well I knew what had dimmed her eye, And made her cheek so pale; The maid had forgotten her early song, While she listened to love's soft tale. She had tasted the sweets of his poisoned cup; And the stolen heart, like the gathered rose, SONG OF THE HERMIT TROUT. BY WILLIAM P. HAWES. Down in the deep Dark holes I keep, And there in the noontide I float and sleep. And the springing bog, And the arching alders, I lie incog. The angler's fly Comes dancing by, But never a moment it cheats my eye; For the hermit trout As to be by a wading boy pulled out. King of the brook, No fisher's hook Fills me with dread of the sweaty cook; And laugh as they try; Shall I bite at their bait? No, no; not I! But when the streams, Sparkle all silver, and starlight gleams, For the hermit trout; For he springs and dimples the shallows about, While the tired angler dreams A LIFE ON THE OCEAN WAVE. BY EPES SARGENT. A LIFE on the ocean wave! A home on the rolling deep! Like an eagle caged, I pine On this dull unchanging shore; Oh, give me the flashing brine, The spray, and the tempest's roar. Once more on the deck I stand The land is no longer in view, A home on the bounding wave! THE DYING LEGACY. BY J. M. CHURCH. SAW ye the shadow o'er his brow, But late, a daughter, simple child, And as he looked into her eyes, And watched her childish glee, He murmur'd, Dear, oh dear, thou art My poor wife's legacy. "Tis now that old man, weak and wan, Sits comfortless and lone, His child, alas! poor fallen thing, And as her image meets his thoughts, THE LAST BOUQUET. BY H. T. TUCKERMAN. THERE's sadness in your bloom to-night, As though ye conscious emblems were When deeply in your buds ye slept, To speak what flowers were made to tell, O when each flowery nook is gleaned, Through upper gardens stray, |