Now "hearts of oak may tell Of the flag of England's fame; When fort and bastion fell 'Neath her battle-bolts of flame! And Acre's vaunted walls were overthrown, TO YOUTH. ANON. IN life's gay morn, when sprightly youth Deep in thy soul, before its powers For soon the shades of grief shall cloud Soon shall thy heart the woes of age And sadly muse on former joys, C WHAT IS HOPE? D. H. WHAT is Hope? A radiant gem, To cheer man's pathway to the tomb. What is Hope? A ray of light Piercing some dungeon dark and drear, And making daylight seem more bright, To the wretch imprison'd there. What is Hope? A lovely flower, What is Hope? A friendly raft, Them to the shore they wish to win. What is Hope? The rescue cry, Heard when the strife is almost o'er, When many in that last sleep lie, Which friend or foe can break no more. What is Hope? A meteor-light To those who rest on earth their love; A guiding star both pure and bright To those who fix their eyes above. THE DESERTED HOUSE.* ALFRED TENNYSON. LIFE and Thought have gone away Leaving door and windows wide: All within is dark as night: Of the dark deserted house. Come away: no more of mirth Come away for Life and Thought But in a city glorious— A great and distant city-have bought Would they could have stay'd with us. THE CHURCHYARD. LÆTITIA E. LANDON. THE willow shade is on the ground, And many a wild flower on that mound Its pleasant summer home has made : The young learner will probably perceive that the "Deserted House," here, means a dead body. And every breath that waves a leaf I cannot dream beneath that shade- I cannot rest upon the grave There is a name upon the stone- Ere all of life save breath has fled: Has long been loosed, and yet live onThe doom'd to drink of life's dark wave, Whose golden bowl has long been gone! Ay, weep for those the wearied, worn, Dragg'd downward by some earthly tie By some vain hope, some vainer love, Who, loathe to live, yet fear to die. BRIGHTER HOURS. GEORGIANA BENNET. THOUGH dark the present hour may seem, Yet fear not, for amidst the gloom One hope is ever ours That joy may yet our lot illume Droop not, but nobly struggle still, And they would cease to strive with ill, Life's high rewards were never won Hope on for Brighter Hours! Cares may be round thee; doubts and fears E'en if Hope's earthly ray grows dim, Which leads us on to trust in HIM THE PAST.-ONCE UPON A TIME. MRS. SOUTHEY. MIND me of a pleasant time, The pleasantest I've ever known, Or ever now shall know. |