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Pure as the snow-flake ere it falls and takes the stain of
earth, With not a taint of mortal life, except thy mortal
birth, God bade thee early taste the spring for which so many
thirst, And bliss, eternal bliss is thine, my fairest and my
By D. M. Moir. I saw her once—so freshly fair
That, like a blossom just unfolding, She opened to Life's cloudless air,
And Nature joyed to view its moulding. Her smile it haunts my memory yet,
Her cheek's fine hue divinely glowing, -Her rosebud mouth,-her eyes of jet,
Around on all their light bestowing. Oh! who could look on such a form,
So nobly free, so softly tender, And darkly dream that earthly storm
Should dim such sweet, delicious splendour ? For in her mien, and in her face,
And in her young step's fairy lightness, Naught could the raptured gazer trace
But Beauty's glow and Pleasure's brightness. I saw her twice,—an altered charm,
But still of magic richest, rarest ; Than girlhood's talisman less warm,
Though yet of earthly sights the fairest. Upon her breast she held a child,
The very image of its mother, Which ever to her smiling smiled,
They seemed to live but in each other: But matron cares, or lurking woe,
Her thoughtless, sinless look had banished,
And from her cheek the roseate glow
Of girlhood's balmy morn had vanished ; Within her eyes, upon her brow,
Lay something softer, fonder, deeper, As if in dreams some visioned woe
Had broke the Elysium of the sleeper.
I saw her thrice,-Fate's dark decree
In widow's garments had arrayed her, Yet beautiful she seemed to be
As even my reveries portrayed her; The glow, the glance had passed away,
The sunshine and the sparkling glitter, Still, though I noted pale decay,
The retrospect was scarcely bitter; For in their place a calmness dwelt,
Serene, subduing, soothing, holy, In feeling which the bosom felt
That every louder mirth is folly, A pensiveness which is not grief,
A stillness, as of sunset streaming, A fairy glow on flower and leaf,
Till earth looks like a landscape dreaming. A last time,—and unmoved she lay
Beyond Life's dim, uncertain river, A glorious mould of fading clay
From whence the spark had fled for ever! I gazed, my breast was like to burst,
And as I thought of years departed, The years
wherein I saw her first, When she, a girl, was tender-hearted: And when I mused on later days,
As moved she in her matron duty, A happy mother, in the blaze
Of ripened hope and sunny beauty; I felt the chill,- I turned aside,
Bleak Desolation's cloud came o'er me, And Being seemed a troubled tide
Whose wrecks in darkness swam before me ! A BACIIELOR'S COMPLAINT.
H. G. BELL.
THEY'RE stepping off, the friends I knew,
They're going one by one:
Their jovial days are done;
To join me in a spree;
They look askance on me.
I hate to see them sobered down
The merry boys and true;
At pictures fancy drew;
Their puddings and their soups,
In formidable groups.
And though their wife perchance may have
A comely sort of face, And at the table's upper
end Conduct herself with graceI hate the prim reserve that reigns,
The caution and the state; I hate to see my
vain Of furniture and plate.
How strangel they go to bed at ten,
And rise at half-past nine ;
A pint or so of wine:
They very rarely dance,
Nor open a romance,
They talk, indeed, of politics,
Of taxes, and of crops,
They go about to shops;
And learned in butcher-meat,
For everything they eat.
To squall through thick and thin,
Small images of sin;
Ere half their days are told,
And they are counted old.
And for the friends I've lost,
Was chilled by early frost.
I'd have him shun my door,
Henceforth a bachelor.
TO A DROP OF DEW. THE VERY Rev. Henry ALFORD, D.D., DEAN OF CANTERBURY.
[Dr. Alford, justly celebrated as a Biblical critic and poet, was born near London in 1810. He was educated at Ilminster Grammar School, and Trinity College, Cambridge. His first volume of poems was published 1831; the second, “The School of the Heart, and other Poems,” in 1835. From 1853 to 1857, Dr. Alford was officiating minister of Quebec-street Chapel, to which large congregations were attracted by his pulpit eloquence. In 1857 he was presented by the late Lord Palmerston to the Deanery of Canterbury. His grand work, his Greek Testament, in five volumes, was completed in 1861, the first having appeared in 1841. His poetry is elegant and glowing, and breathes a pure Christian spirit. An edition of his poems
“ for the million' has been published by Messrs. Rivington.]
be so blest as thee,