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THE HONEYSUCKLE OR WOODBINE.

LONE, the woodbine droops and pines,
But round the elm with fondness twines,
With clasping tendrils seeks to rise,
And soon the stormy blast defies;
Till buds and spring flowers are seen
Amidst the broad elm's branches green.
How emblematic of the fair

Consigned to man's protecting care!
He finds her heart his hope and stay,
His refuge in the evil day!
Condemned to bloom and blush alone,
She pines unnoticed or unknown;
But placed within his sheltering arms,
She there unfolds far lovelier charms,
And thus caressing and caressed
The pair are in their union bless'd.

ALEX. BALFOUR.

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ATHOUGH THOU MAUN NEVER BE MINE.

ERE'S a health to ane I lo'e dear,
Here's a health to ane I lo'e dear;

Thou art sweet as the smile when fond lovers

meet,

And soft as their parting tear-Jessy!

Although thou maun never be mine,
Although even hope is denied ;
'Tis sweeter for thee despairing

Than aught in the world beside-Jessy!
Here's a health, &c.

I mourn through the gay, gaudy day,
As, hopeless, I muse on thy charms;
But welcome the dream o' sweet slumber,
For then I am lockt in thy arms—Jessy!
Here's a health, &c.

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I guess by the dear angel smile,

I guess by the love-rolling ee;
But why urge the tender confession

'Gainst fortune's fell cruel decree-Jessy!

Here's a health, &c.

BURNS.

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HE Wind and the Beam loved the Rose,
And the Rose loved one;

For who recks the Wind where it blows?
Or loves not the Sun ?

None knew whence the humble Wind stole,
Poor sport of the skies-

None dreamt that the Wind had a soul
In its mournful sighs.

Oh! happy Beam-how canst thou prove.
That bright love of thine?

In thy light is the proof of thy love,

Thou hast but-to shine.

How its love can the Wind reveal?

Unwelcome its sigh,

Mute-mute to its Rose let it steal,
Its proof is to die.

BULWER.

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