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Whilst heavy sighs proclaimed all joy was
fled From him, the childless father, who gazed on Scenes, which brought memories of the loved
There the green oak in civil triumph bore
The torn remains of the once favorite kite ; And the rose-tree displayed a beauteous store Of rosy flowers, which budding, joy'd the
sight; And sideways spread a mound of unmown
grass, O’er which such bounding feet were used to
pass : All these seem'd shrouded in eternal night, Since from their view the father could but
borrow Thoughts of past joy, to deepen present sorrow. The bell ceased tolling—and the solemn tread
Of slow receding footsteps died away, Till all was gloom, for thinking on the dead,
The village children had forgot their play; They missed their loved companion-he who'd
chase Their fleetest footsteps oft, and win the race;
Sadness and silence mark'd the weary day; E’en mothers fearfully looked on the bloom Of their loved boys—and thought upon the
THE TWIN SISTERS.
3. R. Taylor. I saw them first one summer's day
Within their father's bowers, Wreathing each other's auburn locks
With fragrant leaves and flowers; They were too frail and beautiful
For this dark world of ours.
Twin sisters were they, having each
The same rich auburn hair,
And gay smiles lurking there,
They were a lovely pair.
Two stars in the calm depths of heaven,
Might well resemble them,
Two rose-buds on one stem,
In the same diadem.
They were together night and day
Through all their early years ; Had the same fancies, feelings, thoughts,
Joys, sorrows, hopes, and fears; They had a fellowship of smiles,
A fellowship of tears.
If one were gay, through both their hearts
The tide of rapture rushed;
In both their hearts was hushed;
From the same fountain gushed.
Affecting one alone,
Were utterly unknown,
Alike in every tone.
They were but six years old, Wreathing each others hair with flowers,
Crimson and blue and gold,
A store of wealth untold.
They left their flowers to die,
A gorgeous butterfly.
When it soared into the sky.
And then they checked their pace,
And with an earnest face,
Until another butterfly
Recalled them to the chase.
In a bower of cypress trees,
Before them on their knees, And they read an old sad melody,
And their hearts were ill at ease. And sadness settled like a cloud
a Where smiles were wont to brood, And within bright and laughing eyes
The tears of pity stood, And they looked in each others face and said,
• Poor children in the wood.' They were happy all the summer day,
And happier far at night, When they knelt to say their evening prayers
With spirits pure and bright, And the father and mother kissed their babes,
It was a blessed sight. The morrow I was far away,
Musing with many fears, How those sweet creatures would be changed
In ten or twenty years, And I thought about their sweet good night,
Till my heart was moved to tears.
Gray. Now the golden morn aloft
Waves her dew bespangled wing With vermeil cheek, and whisper soft,
She woos the tardy spring; Till April starts, and calls around The sleeping fragrance of the ground, And lightly o'er the living scene Scatters her freshest, tenderest green.
New-born flocks, in rustic dance,
Frisking, ply their nimble feet; Forgetful of their wintry trance,
The birds bis presence greet; But chief the sky-lark warbles high His trembling, thrilling ecstacy; And lessening from the dazzled sight, Melts into air and liquid light.
Yesterday the sullen year
Saw the snowy whirlwind fly; Mute was the music of the air,
The herd stood drooping by ; Their raptures now, that wildly flow, No yesterday nor morrow know; 'Tis man alone, that joy descries With forward and reverted eyes.