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ON THE DEATH OF A FAVOURITE CHILD.

When, years of pain and peril past,
Man sinks into mature decay,

And like a waning lamp at last

Exhausted nature dies

away;

Friends will lament the severed tie,
The strong links of affection riven;
Yet resignation lends a sigh

To waft the parted soul to heaven.

But when disease untimely sends

The prattler from the parent's knee,

And on the bed of death extends

The child of happiest augury:

Then close the clouds of gloomy night
O'er bright anticipation's sky,

And love and blasted hopes unite

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Such, innocent of heart! wert thou,

Sweet Catherine, such thy early doom, And so thy weeping parents bow

In sad bereavement o'er thy tomb.

Still ring thy accents on the ear,

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Still beams thy smile upon the eye:

And retrospection's bitter tear

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Flows from the font of memory.

Yet why should floods of sorrow flow
That thou, sweet little one, wert given

To win the affections here below,

And bear them with thee back to heaven!

Religion tells us we shall meet

In regions of eternal day,
And mingle in communion sweet

When mortal things are past away.

Anon.

And still forgotten while they go,

As on the sea-beach wave on wave
Dissolves at once in snow.

Upon the blue and silent sky

The amber clouds one moment lie,
And like a dream are gone!

Though beautiful the moon-beams play
On the lake's bosom bright as they,
And the soul intensely loves their stay,
Soon as the radiance melts away

We scarce believe it shone !

Heaven-airs amid the harp-strings dwell,

And we wish they ne'er may

fade

They cease! and the soul is a silent cell,

Where music never played.

Dream follows dream through the long night-hours,

Each lovelier than the last

But ere the breath of morning-flowers,

That gorgeous world flies past.

And many a sweet angelic cheek,

Whose smiles of love and kindness speak,

Glides by us on this earth

While in a day we cannot tell

Where shone the face we loved so well,

In sadness or in mirth.

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INSCRIPTION

FOR AN ASYLUM FOR THE BLIND AT LIVERPOOL.

Stranger, pause for thee the day,
Smiling, lights its cheerful ray ;

Spreads the lawn, and rears the bower,
Pours the stream, and paints the flower.

Stranger, pause-with softened mind,
Learn the sorrows of the blind

Earth, and seas, and varying skies,
Visit not their cheerless eyes.

Not for them the bliss to trace,
The chisel's animating grace ;
Nor on the glowing canvas find,
The poet's soul, the sage's mind.

Not for them, the heart is seen,
Speaking thro' the expressive mien;
Not for them, are pictured there,
Friendship, pity, love sincere.

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Helpless, as they slowly stray,
Childhood points their cheerless way;
Or the wand exploring guides
Faultering steps where fear presides.

Yet for them has genius kind,
Humble pleasures here assigned;—
Here, with unexpected ray,

Reached the soul that felt no day.

Lonely blindness here can meet,
Kindred woes and converse sweet ;
Torpid once, can learn to smile,
Proudly o'er its useful toil-

He, who deigned for men to die,

Oped on day the darkened eye;—

Humbly copy-thou canst feel!

Give thine alms-thou canst not heal!

Anon.

REFLECTIONS ON THE FOURTH OF JUNE.

ཉང *། །

Ah day revered for sixty years

Once day of joy, but now of tears—

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