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Their shattered leaves all recklessly,
Nor left a bud behind !
O'er green and flowery lawns,
Our path is thick with thorns !
How brimming was the revel-cup
We lifted to our lip
Our spirits' fellowship
And Eden-colored things!
Our bright imaginings !
And the tempest broodeth now
Katrinah ! fearest thou?
Till Life's delights are gone-
W. H. BURLEIGH. THE
THE LAZY MIST.
The lazy mist hangs from the brow of the hill,
sues ! How long I have lived—but how much lived in
vain ! How little of life's scanty span may remain ! What aspects old Time in his progress has worn! What ties cruel fate in my bosom has torn! How foolish, or worse, till our summit is gain'd! And downward, how weaken'd, how darken’d, how
pain'd! This life's not worth having with all it can give For something beyond it poor man sure must live.
34 BUTTERCUPS AND DAISIES.
BUTTERCUPS AND DAISIES.
I NEVER see a young hand hold
Through memory's chequered mazes,
For buttercups and daisies.
Tell me, ye men of wisdom rare,
say, ye not like to hear
Proclaiming joy that crazes,
Or buttercups and daisies ?
BUTTERCUPS AND DAISIES. 35
Are there, I ask, beneath the sky
When burning words and praises
Buttercups and daisies ?
There seems a bright and fairy spell
Is that the one who raises
MUSINGS. This is my birth-day! Twenty five years o:d! Methinks I stand midway between two deathsThe one, which was before my birth-ihe other, That which ere long will wrap me in its shades. And standing thus, how many thoughts spring
forth(Even as stars, watching the eclipsed moon, Swarm out in heaven)-into the dark abyss Which time has made my heart. It is not long That I have walked the pathways of the world; And yet the shadowy phantoms of dead hopes, Withered affections and unnurtured love, Throng round my path and in the memory(Even as glooms that throng around the stars,) Making life dark, a lightless wilderness.
Alas for my unsandalled feet! They bleed, Pierced by the thorns which strew the paths of
life. I rushed into my youth with burning hopes, High aspirations after starry Fame. The hopes which were the planets that did light My life, are gone-for Time has hidden them With the pale shadow of his stern eclipse. And I have wandered many a day and long Amid the world--and tried its friendship well; And I have struggled with cold poveriy,