These are most dear, but soon shall pass
That summons of the heart;
Congenial spirits, soon, alas!
Are ever doomed to part.

Yet those to whom such grief is given,
Mourn not thy lot of woe;
Say, can a wandering light from heaven
E'er sparkle long below?

Earth would be all too bright,
With such pure ties of love;
Let kindred spirits hope to rest
Save in a rest above.

too blest,

Nashua Oasis.

The World as it is.

The world is not so bad a world
As some would like to make it;
Though whether good, or whether bad,
Depends on how we take it.

For if we scold and fret all day,

From dewy morn till even,
This world will ne'er afford to man
A foretaste here of heaven.

This world in truth 's as good a world
As e'er was known to any

Who have not seen another yet,
And these are very many;

And if the men, and women, too,
Have plenty of employment,
Those surely must be hard to please
Who cannot find enjoyment.

This world is quite a clever world,
In rain or pleasant weather,
If people would but learn to live
In harmony together;
Nor seek to burst the kindly bond
By love and peace cemented,
And learn the best of lessons yet,
To always be contented.

Then were the world a pleasant world,
And pleasant folks were in it,
The day would pass most pleasantly
To those who thus begin it;
And all the nameless grievances
Brought on by borrowed troubles,
Would prove, as certainly they are,
A mass of empty bubbles.

ΑΝΟΝ.

The Will.

The star of the unconquered will,
It rises in my breast,
Serene and resolute, and still,
And calm, and self-possessed.

I fear not in a world like this,
And thou shalt know ere long,
Know how sublime a thing it is
To suffer and be strong.

LONGFELLOW.

My Mountain Home.

I love my own dear mountain home,
And o'er its hills I love to roam

To view each varied scene;
The gurgling rill and waters bright
As forth they pour from mountain height,
And woods all glad with green.

And I a walk delight to take
At times beside the limpid lake

To view the birds around;
To hear them chant their joyful lay
Upon some lone deserted spray

Just by the margin found.

And when the sun sinks in the west,
And weary nature seems to rest,

It gladdens me to hear

The nightingale's loud, thrilling songs,
While she her music oft prolongs,
Until the stars appear.

And then as sinks the morning star,
To hear the cuckoo from afar

Commence her gladsome lay;