No tears about their graves be shed; but sweetest flow'rs be flung The fittest offering thou canst make to hearts that perish young To hearts this world has never torn with racking hopes and fears; For bless'd are they who pass away in boyhood's happy years. THE FALL OF THE LEAVES. THEY are falling, they are falling, and soon, alas! they'll fade, The flowers of the garden, the leaves of dell and glade; Their dirge the winds are singing in the lone and fitful blast, And the leaves and flowers of summer are strewn and fading fast. Ah! why then have we loved them, when their beauties might have told They could not linger long with us, nor stormy skies behold? Fair creatures of the sunshine; your day of life is past, Ye are scatter'd by the rude winds, fallen and fading fast: And, oh! how oft enchanted have we watch'd your opening bloom, When you made unto the day-god your offerings of perfume! How vain are our imaginings that joy will always last: 'Tis like to you, ye sweet things, all dimm'd and faded fast. The glens where late ye bloom'd for us, are leafless now and lorn; The tempest's breath hath all their pride and all their beauty shorn. 'Twas ever so, and so shall be: by fate that doom was cast The things we love are scarcely seen till they are gone and past. Ay, ye are gone and faded, ye leaves and lovely flowers; But when spring comes, you'll come again to deck the garden's bowers; And beauty, too, will cull you, and twine you in her hair What meeter, truer emblem can beauty ever wear? But never, here, oh! never, shall we the loved ones meet, Who shone in youth around us, and like you faded fleet. Full soon affliction bow'd them, and life's day-dawn o'ercast : They're blooming now in heaven, their day of fading's past! Ye wither'd leaves and flowers! oh! may you long impart Monition grave and moral stern unto this erring heart : Oh! teach it that the joys of earth are short-lived, vain, and frail, And transient as the leaves and flowers before the wintry gale! Rev. Dr. Rock. THE MONTH OF MAY. OUR sires have said, and we still say, So listless 'thwart the clear blue sky; All heav'n, all earth, seem then to show With this best month throughout the year 'tis meet Then let us bring from May's gay bowers Charles Gaban Duffy. A LAY SERMON. BROTHER, do you love your brother? As a brave man may beseem? Brother, shun the mist exhaling Anchor in no stagnant shallow; Favour will not make deserving; You must strive for better guerdons; |