LOVE DIES NOT WITH BEAUTY.

WILLIAM GASPEY.

OH! think not when Time shall have silver'd thy brow,
I shall love thee less fondly, dear Mary, than now;
Nor believe that my ardent affection will fly
With the rose of thy cheek, or the light of thine eye;
For in age, as in youth, thou a blessing wilt prove-
Beauty never departs from the woman we love.

Nay, dearest, say not, 'tween a sigh and a smile,
That my love, like thy charms, will but flourish awhile;
When wrinkles shall steal o'er thy beautiful face,

And the mind can alone thy past loveliness trace,

I shall treasure thee more, for in thee shall I see

An angel, that stoops to be mortal for me!

MY SOLDIER BOY.

DR. WILLIAM MAGINN, BORN IN JULY, 1794, at cork,
DIED AUGUST 19, 1842, BURIED AT WALTON-
ON-THAMES.

I Give my soldier-boy a blade,

In fair Damascus fashion'd well;
Who first the glittering falchion sway'd,
Who first beneath its fury fell,

I know not, but I hope to know,
That for no mean or hireling trade,
To guard no feeling base or low,
I give my soldier-boy a blade.

Cool, calm, and clear, the lucid flood,
In which its tempering work was done,

As calm, as clear, as cool of mood,
Be thou whene'er it sees the sun.
For country's claim, at honour's call,
For outraged friend, insulted maid,
At mercy's voice to bid it fall,
I give my soldier-boy a blade.

H

The eye which mark'd its peerless edge,
The hand that weigh'd its balanced poise,
Anvil and pincers, forge and wedge,

Are gone, with all their flame and noise-
And still the gleaming sword remains.

So when in dust I low am laid, Remember by these heart-felt strains I gave my soldier-boy a blade.

"IN a garden, hark thee, Willie,
Here's a tree and there's a tree,
Apple tree and rose tree;
Which wouldst thou the rather be,
Apple tree or rose tree?"

Oh, I know," wee Willie said,

Looking high above his head:

"I would be the apple tree

The tall, the fruit-bowed apple tree."

"In a garden, hark thee, Annie,

Here's a tree, and there's a tree,

Apple tree and rose tree;

Which wouldst thou the rather be,

Apple tree or rose tree?" "Rather be!" sweet Annie cries, Looking lively with her eyes; "I would be the white rose tree

The drooping, flower-crown'd white rose tree.'

Annie, Willie, in a cottage !

Both the trees remember still;
Apple tree and rose tree,
Fitting pair are Ann and Will;
Apple tree and rose tree!

He brings fruit and she brings flowers,
Cheerful days and joyous hours;
He and she live happily,

In the cottage on the lea.

Simple creatures, Annie, Willie !

What a world this world so fair;
Apple tree and Rose tree,

If like you its people were;

Apple tree and Rose tree!

Love's sweet works would glad the day,
Healthful Rest sleep night away;

All would be, as all should be,

A fruit-bowed, flower-crown'd, living tree.

GENEVIEVE.

SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE, BORN OCTOBER 20, 1772, AT OTTERY ST. MARY, DEVONSHIRE, DIED AT

HIGHGATE, JULY 25, 1834.

ALL thoughts, all passions, all delights,
Whatever stirs this mortal frame,
Are all but ministers of love,

And feed his sacred flame.

Oft in my waking dreams do I
Live o'er again that happy hour,
When midway on the mount I lay,
Beside the ruin'd tower.

The moonshine, stealing o'er the scene,
Had blended with the light of eve;
And she was there, my hope, my joy,
My own dear Genevieve!

She lean'd against the armed man,
The statue of the armed knight;
She stood and listen'd to my lay

Amid the lingering light.