Fly on the enchanted cord in syllables! The fabled chain connecting Earth with Heaven, - All nations, and all kindreds, and all tongues, To the wide brotherhood of human-kind! E'en nowe'en now, the hoarse Atlantic surge Yet still though thy flowers. In that hallowed shrine, only, Sleep things we would cherish, Pure, priceless, loved, lonely, They never can perish. Then I'll mourn ye no more, Ye pale leaves that are shed, Though your brightness is o'er, Your perfume is not fled; And like thine aroma The spirit of flowers Remembrance will hover O'er the grave of past hours. SMILES OFT DECEIVE US. The saddest heart oft gayest seems, And joins the merry glee, While breaking are its tender chords, By griefs we cannot see. Then trust not to a smiling face, Or heart that merry seems, For in that heart may sorrow be, Though joy from out it beams. 'FRANK GREENWOOD.' Ан, do not say the heart is light, And free from every care, Because the eye beams calm and bright, And only peace is there. Around the monumental stone The gayest flowers may creep The breast may wither chill and lone, Sleeps in the rolling cloud- Though all is shade and shower. |