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Methought the languid pulses of her heart
Were stirring with the loveliness of earth,
And memories and hopes of other days

A transient moment came: anew she felt

The binding ties which linked her heart with those
Whose thoughts gave echo to her own, and sweet
And cherished dreams of love came back. But strong
In mountain-moving faith, above each pang

She rose sublime, and joyfully she passed
Into the everlasting rest of Him

Whose name and nature still are Love. Farewell,
Meek-hearted one! upon our hearts thy name
Engraved shall rest. Thy virtues changeless live,
And from the grave their kindling notes are heard.
We mourn indeed o'er promised hopes destroyed;
We sigh to know the brightness of the earth
Shall touch thy heart no more,-we weep with her
Who watched thy opening years, and saw at last
Her treasured hopes with thee expire; yet still,
Oh! not in vain wert thou a dweller here.

Though men have paid small tribute to thy name,
And thou, from fashion's cold and slavish shrine
Didst turn, to tread those upward paths, where bloom

The evergreens of peace,-yet sweeter far

Than all the homage of admiring throngs,

Came to thy spirit's ear, the whispered words,

"WELL DONE!" Well done, and thou art gone. "Tis thus

That one by one, our links on earth give way:

The loved, the bright, the pure! how oft they shine

And pass like meteors from our sky. Yet still
Effaceless traces of their course remain,

And from their ashes cold, they bid us wrap

Those feelings pure around our hearts, and store

Those treasures up, which, in that hastening hour,

When pomp and pride with sickening weight shall press, Like angel guards, shall turn each pang aside,

And smile around the entrance-door of death.

N.

COME HOME.

COME home!

Would I could send my spirit o'er the deep,

Would I could wing it like a bird to thee,
To commune with thy thoughts, to fill thy sleep
With these unwearying words of melody,
Brother, come home.

Come home!

Come to the hearts that love thee, to the eyes

That beam in brightness but to gladden thine; Come where fond thoughts, like holiest incense rise, Where cherished memory rears her altar shrine. Brother, come home.

Come home!

Come to the hearthstone of thy earlier days,

Come to the ark, like the o'erwearied dove; Come with the sunlight of thy heart's warm rays, Come to the fireside circle of thy love.

Brother, come home.

Come home!

It is not home without thee, the lone seat

Is still unclaimed where thou wert wont to be;

In every echo of returning feet,

In vain we list for what should herald thee.

Brother, come home.

Come home!

We've nursed for thee the sunny buds of spring,
Watched every germ a full-blown flowret rear,

Saw o'er their bloom the chilly winter bring
Its icy garlands, and thou art not here.
Brother, come home.

Come home!

Would I could send my spirit o'er the deep,
Would I could wing it like a bird to thee,
To commune with thy thoughts, to fill thy sleep
With these unwearying words of melody,
Brother, come home.

DEPARTED FRIENDS.

It is not when the parting breath we watch with anxious heart,

It is not in the hour of death, when those we love depart, Nor yet, when laid upon the bier, we follow slow the course Which leads us to their dwelling low, that most we feel their loss.

When past the last and solemn rite, and dust to dust has

gone,

And in its wonted channelled course the stream of life

flows on;

Ah! who can tell how drear the space once filled by those

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When well known scenes, and local things, and all but they are here.

This deep, this heartfelt loneliness, this quietness of grief, Falls heavier on our hours of joy, than tempests strong but

brief;

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