An exile from Home, splendour dazzles in vain!

lowly thatch'd cottage again

HOME, SWEET HOME!

MID pleasures and palaces though we may ream,
Be it never so humble, there's no place like home!
A charm from the skies seems to hallow us there,
Which, seek through the world, is ne'er met with elsewhere.
Home, home! Sweet home!

There's no place like home!

An exile from home, splendor dazzles in vain ;
O give me my lowly thatched cottage again!
The birds singing gayly, that came at my call:
Give me these, and the peace of mind dearer than all.
Home, home! Sweet home!

There's no place like home!

JOHN HOWARD PAYNE.

LOSS AND GAIN.

WHEN the baby died, we said,
With a sudden, secret dread,
"Death, be merciful, and pass:

Leave the other!" but, alas!

While we watched he waited there,

One foot on the golden stair,

One hand beckoning at the gate,

Till the home was desolate.