But blame us women not if some appear For ever free. The great eternal scheme, Too cold at times, and some too gay and light: Some griefs gnaw deep; some woes are hard To Reason's eye refined clears up apace. to bear. Who knows the past? and who can judge Ye vainly wise, ye blind presumptuous, now Ah! were we judged by what we might have And not by what we are, too apt to fall! My little child-he sleeps and smiles be tween These thoughts and me. shall know all. cause Why unassuming worth in secret lived, In life was gall and bitterness of soul; A little part, deemed evil is no more: Lost between good and ill, that shared thy The storms of wintry time will quickly pass, His Grace, who smarts, may bellow if he | Her soft tresses tickle your whisker, please, But must I bellow too, who sit at ease? To tax our labors and excise our brains. Her soft breath is warm on your cheek; And, in the excitement grown bolder, You murmur soft words in her ear, And in blushes quite low on your shoulder She replies that mamma must not hear— Burdens like these vile earthly buildings Replies, "I delight in these crushes: One can talk though the dances are full; You don't go next week to the duchess'? Then I'm sure I shall find it quite dull." But now for the next dance they're starting; You cherish for many days after The look that so lovingly beams: 'Tis a sorrow that stifles your laughter, 'Tis a joy that is bright on your dreams. You fancy, so lightly she dances, Her dear little foot on your stair ; You people with those sunny glances A sweet little home in May Fair. You saw that all eyes were upon her As she moved down that glittering room, And you fancy, when once you have won her, How pretty she'll look in your brougham Though you feel that your touch is pro- Oh visions that madly you cherish! fane, And think that fair burden ere you'd drop You would die to the cornet's wild strain. The cornet blows louder and brisker; She grows more confiding and weak; Oh smile that was cruelly false ! Oh hopes that were born but to perish! Oh dream that has fled with the valse! When next you meet, doffing your beaver, You look for her bow, but in vain : And you're not worth one wave of her And what a length of tail behind ! So high, at last, the contest rose, "Sirs," said the umpire, " cease your pother; Thus, while around the wave-subjected scil Both stared; the man looked wondrous With all those ills superfluous treasure The gate, which was hurled from its ancient | Have you further heard of this aloe-planɩ, place, Lay mouldering on the bare ground, And the knight rushed in, but saw not a trace Of a friend as he gazed around. He flew to the grove where his mistress late Had charmed him with love's sweet tone, But 'twas desolate now, and the strings were mute, And she he adored was gone. The wreaths were all dead in Rosalie's bower And Rosalie's dove was lost, And the winter's wind had withered each flower On the myrtle she valued most. But a cypress grew where the myrtle's bloom And under its shade was a marble tomb, ANONYMOUS. THROUGH DEATH TO LIFE. That grows in the sunny clime, How every one of its thousand flowers, As they drop in the blooming-time, Is an infant plant, that fastens its roots. HAVE you heard the tale of the aloe- Have you heard the tale they tell of the plant, swan, The snow-white bird of the lake? For it saves its song till the end of life, And the blessed notes fall back from the skies; 'Tis its only song, for in singing it dies. |