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I WEEP while gazing on thy modest face,
Thou pictured history of woman's love!
Joy spreads his burning pinions on thy cheek,
Shaming its whiteness; and thine eyes are full
Of conscious beauty, as they undulate.
Yet all thy beauty, poor deluded girl!
Served but to light thy ruin.- Is there not,
Kind Heaven! some secret talisman of hearts
Whereby to find a resting-place for love?
Unhappy maiden ! let thy story teach
The beautiful and young, that while their path
Softens with roses, — danger may be there;
That love may watch the bubbles of the stream,
But never trust his image on the wave.



BY A. B.


Now fluttering breeze - now stormy blast,

Mild rain, then blustering snowWinter's stern fettering cold is passed,

But, sweet Spring! where art thou ? The white cloud floats ʼmid smiling blue, The broad bright sunshine's golden hue

Bathes the still frozen earth, 'Tis changed !-above, black vapours roll, We turn from our expected stroll,

And seek the blazing hearth.

Hark, that sweet carol! with delight

We leave the stilling room ;
The little blue-bird greets our sight,

Spring, glorious Spring has come!
The south-wind's balm is in the air,
The melting snow-wreaths every where

Are leaping off in showers,
And Nature, in her brightening looks,
Tells that her flowers, and leaves, and brooks,

And birds, will soon be ours.

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A few soft sunny days have shone,

The air has lost its chill,
A bright green tinge succeeds the brown

Upon the southern hill.
Off to the woods -

- a pleasant sceneHere sprouts the fresh young wintergreen,

There swells a mossy mound, Though in the hollows drifts are piled, The wandering wind is sweet and mild,

And buds are bursting round.

Where its long rings uncurls the fern,

The violet, nestling low,
Casts back the white lid of its urn,

Its purple streaks to show :
Beautiful blossom! first to rise
And smile beneath Spring's wakening skies,

The courier of the band
Of coming flowers, what feelings sweet
Gush, as the silvery gem we meet

Upon its slender wand.

A sudden roar-a shade is cast

We look up with a start,
And sounding like a transient blast,

O’erhead the pigeons dart;
Scarce their blue glancing shapes the eye
Can trace, ere, dotted on the sky,

They wheel in distant flight. A chirp- and swift the squirrel scours Along the prostrate trunk, and cowers

Within its clefts, from sight.

Amid the creeping vine, which spreads

Its thick and verdant wreath,
The scaur-berry's downy spangle sheds

Its rich delicious breath.
The bee-swarm murmurs by, and now
It clusters black on yonder bough—

The robin's mottled breast
Glances that sunny spot across,
As round it seeks the twig and moss,

To frame its summer nest.

Warmer is each successive sky,

More soft the breezes pass, The maple's gems of crimson lie

Upon the thick green grass.
The dogwood sheds its clusters white,
The birch has dropped its tassels slight,

Cowslips are round the rill,
The thresher whistles in the glen,
Flutters around the warbling wren,

And swamps have voices shrill.






A simultaneous burst of leaves

Has clothed the forest now,
A single day's bright sunshine weaves

This vivid gorgeous show.
Masses of shade are cast beneath,
The flowers are spread in varied wreath,

Night brings its soft sweet moon,
Morn wakes in mist, and twilight gray,
Weeps its bright dew, and smiling May

Melts blooming into June !

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