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THE OPEN WINDOW.
Stood silent in the shade,
The light and shadow played.
Wide open to the air;
They were no longer there.
Was standing by the door;
Who would return no more.
They played not in the hall;
Were hanging over all.
With sweet familiar tone;
Will be heard in dreams alone. And the boy that walked beside me,
He could not understand Why closer in mine, ah ! closer,
I pressed his warm, soft hand.
THE FLOWER OF LOVE.
A flower of radiant bloom,
The evening star its tomb.
O'er mountain, vale, and grove ;
Of man's inconstant love.
There is a flower not passing fair,
That boasts no sunny bloom,
Save from its rich perfume.
its virtue prove ? It is, it is the Lily flower
Of woman's constant love.
There blooms a flower, yet not of earth,
Can healing balsam shed
By human passion spread.
its virtue prove? It is the Amaranthine flower Of Heaven-directed love.
His brow was sad; his eye beneath
In happy homes he saw the light
• Try not the Pass,' the old man said,
"O stay !' the maiden said, “and rest Thy weary head upon this breast !
A tear stood in his bright blue eye,
Beware the pine-tree's withered branch,
At break of day, as heavenward
A traveller by the faithful hound,
There in the twilight cold and gray,
THE WANDERING STARS.
J. E. Carpenter.
We are two wandering stars; we come
From the sphere that gave us birth, To know if the flowers are beautiful
That dwell on the clay-cold earth,
And the early flowers spring;
You have many a lovely thing.
We come from the realms of love and light,
But there's nought in that world of ours, That dazzles and shines more fair and bright
Than a wreath of the earth's wild flowers; Then sigh not, children of mortal mould,
For the joys you cannot know, While the beautiful earth is crowned with
To the realm that gave us birth,
The stars of the lovely earth.