214 DEATH OF THE FLOWERS. But on the hill the golden-rod, and the aster in the wood, And the yellow sun-flower by the brook in autumn beauty stood, Till fell the frost from the clear, cold heaven, as falls the plague on men, And the brightness of their smile was gone from upland, glade and glen. And now, when comes the calm, mild day, as still such days will come, To call the squirrel and the bee from out their winter home, When the sound of dropping nuts is heard, though all the trees are still, And twinkle in the smoky light the waters of the rill, late he bore, [more. And sighs to find them in the wood and by the stream no And then I think of one who in her youthful beauty died, The fair, meek blossom that grew up and faded by my side: In the cold moist earth we laid her when the forest cast the leaf, And we wept that one so lovely should have a life so brief; Yet not unmeet it was, that one, like that young friend of ours, So gentle and so beautiful, should perish with the flowers. THE PARTING—A PICTURE. BY G. MELLEN. He loved her to the last. And when they parted Which gathered o'er its whiteness-dark, and damp, Have made his pillow like Procrustes' bed, And his night sleepless. And her Parian hand, Their parting was for ever-and her heart Wept like her eyes! She had heard whispers come 216 THE PARTING A PICTURE. She made him at the altar-and his voice But they must part. His call was to a land And shrink those hands to talons, that now lay Again he bent above her, but spake not. TO A WAVE. BY J. 0. ROCKWELL. LIST! thou child of wind and sea, Wave! now on the golden sands, Silent as thou art, and broken, Bearest thou not from distant strands To my heart some pleasant token? Tales of mountains of the south, Spangles of the ore of silver, Which with playful singing mouth, Thou hast leaped on high to pilfer? |