THEY ARE ALL GONE.

THEY are all gone into the world of light,

And I alone sit lingering here ! Their very memory is fair and bright, And my sad thoughts doth clear.

It glows and glitters in my cloudy breast,
Like stars upon some gloomy grove-

Or those faint beams in which this hill is dressed
After the sun's remove.

I see them walking in an air of glory,

Whose light doth trample on my days —
My days, which are at best but dull and hoary,
Mere glimmering and decays.

O holy hope, and high humility!
High as the heavens above!

These are your walks, and you have showed them me

To kindle my cold love.

Dear, beauteous death, the jewel of the just,

Shining nowhere but in the dark,

What mysteries do lie beyond thy dust,

Could man outlook that mark.

He that hath found some fledged bird's nest may

know,

At first sight, if the bird be flown;

But what fair dell or grove he sings in now,
That is to him unknown.

And yet, as angels in some brighter dreams
Call to the soul when man doth sleep,

So some strange thoughts transcend our wonted themes,

And into glory peep.

If a star were confined into a tomb,

Her captive flames must needs burn there, But when the hand that locked her up gives room, She'll shine through all the sphere.

O Father of eternal life, and all

Created glories under thee,

Resume thy spirit from this world of thrall,

Into true liberty.

Either disperse these mists, which blot and fill
My perspective still as they pass,

Or else remove me hence, unto that hill

Where I shall need no glass.

Henry Vaughan.

MEMORY.

"Rather than have one bliss forgot,
Be all my pains remembered too."

Moore.

AND wouldst thou advise me to mix with the

crowd,

And strive to efface the remembrance of years, When, though mists and misfortune too often might shroud,

One smile hath repaid me for long hours of tears?

And say'st thou that memory only can feed

The fever that preys on the desolate heart? O thou knowest not unless thou hast felt it indeed, What joy the remembrance of joy can impart.

There are things that are past which I would not forget

For the brightest of pleasures that earth can

now give;

Their bliss had a mixture of sorrow,

and yet

Like stars in the night of my bosom they live. As on scenes we have passed, when by distance

made soft,

We gaze the more fondly, the further we go, So, when years of our prime have gone over, how oft We turn with delight to past pleasure and woe.

I once felt affections, more gentle and fond, That shone o'er my soul, like the stars o'er the seas;

And think'st thou my spirit can ever despond, While memory revives such emotions as these? O, how many a smile and affectionate word

Remain through long years on the woe-blighted mind,

When joy hath shot over its wastes, like a bird That hath left a bright gift from its plumage behind.

And what though the vision of happiness flies From the heart that had cherished it fondly before?

Its flowers may be withered, but memory supplies Their vigor, and fragrance, and beauty once more. O, may my remembrances never depart,

May I still feel a bliss in beholding the past, While memory over the gems of the heart Shall, sentinel-like, keep her watch to the last. Mary Anne Browne.

"ONLY WAITING."

"I have lived long enough; my way of life Is fallen into the sear, the yellow leaf."

"ONLY waiting" till the adows
Are a little longer grown;
"Only waiting " till the glimmer
Of the day's last beam has flown;
Till the night of earth is faded
From the heart once full of day;
Till the stars of heaven are breaking
Through the twilight soft and gray.

"Only waiting " till the reapers Have the last sheaf gathered home, For the summer time is faded,

And the autumn winds have come. Quickly, reapers! gather quickly The last ripe hours of my heart, For the bloom of life is withered, And I hasten to depart.