THE GRAVES OF A HOUSEHOLD.

(See Frontispiece.)

THEY grew in beauty side by side,
They filled one home with glee,
Their graves are severed far and wide,
By mount, and stream, and sea.

The same fond mother bent at night
O'er each fair sleeping brow,

She had each folded flower in sight-
Where are those dreamers now?

One 'midst the forests of the West,
By a dark stream is laid;
The Indian knows his place of rest

Far in the cedar shade.

The sea, the blue lone sea, hath one,
He lies where pearls lie deep :
He was the loved of all, yet none
O'er his low bed may weep.

One sleeps where southern vines are drest
Above the noble slain;

He wrapt his colours round his breast

On a blood-red field of Spain.

And one-o'er her the myrtle showers

Its leaves, by soft winds fanned;

She faded 'midst Italian flowers,

The last of that bright band.

And, parted thus, they rest-who played
Beneath the same green tree,

Whose voices mingled as they prayed

Around one parent knee:

They that with smiles lit up the hall,

And cheered with song the hearth,

Alas for love, if thou wert all,

And nought beyond, O earth!

MRS. HEMANS.

SELECTIONS

FROM

BEATTIE'S "MINSTREL."

AND lo, The trees with foliage, cliffs with flowers are crowned; Pure rills through vales of verdure warbling go; And wonder, love, and joy, the peasant's heart o'erflow.

The waters, bursting from their slimy bed,

Bring health and melody to every vale:

And, from the breezy main, and mountain's head,
Ceres and Flora, to the sunny dale,

To fan their glowing charms, invite the fluttering gale.