Oldalképek
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spring put on a robe of green and bloomed in solitude. Very near my sylvan home a brook ran slowly along, secming like a beautiful mirror, as it reflected the tall trees that rose above it and the fair flowers that bent over it. I had often wished to be one of those favored flowers whose roots were nourished by the waters, and who could see their beauty reflected in them, for though I had lived long, I did not know whether my form was beautiful or not. While I was vainly wishing that I had been born by the brookside, I saw a gentleman walking through the woods: he seemed to be fond of flowers, for he carried many in his hand, to which he added others as he passed along. He appeared delighted with the quiet beauty of the place. At first he did not notice me, but when his attention was drawn that way, he seemed surprised: I did not know that he was admiring my simple beauty. He took a small spade which he carried, and carefully loosened the earth about my roots, and drew me from the spot where so many happy hours had been spent. He wrapped large leaves around me to shelter me from the sun, and went from the wood into the open field, and after walking for some time. he stopped before a poor but neat cottage. He went in, and addressing a young woman who was rocking in a large arm-chair and looking very pale, he said, "Mary, I have brought you this beautiful flower.".

Mary received me gratefully, and placed me in a

glass of water, saying that she would ask her husband to plant me when he came home; the gentleman then took his leave. I was soon placed in a flower-pot and lived in the cottage for some years. Here I was happier than before; it was true I often sighed for the pure air, and mossy couch on which I reclined in the beautiful quiet of my old home, but I was soon consoled by the thought that I now bloomed for the happiness of others. I brought a smile to the face of the invalid as I budded and opened my beauties before her, and I endeavored to repay her care by shedding my perfume in the sickchamber.

But time brought its changes. A lovely child had been born there, and I saw that the mother was gradually passing away. She died, and her husband soon followed her to the spirit-land. Their son, thus left an orphan, was taken by his uncle, who was a poor man with a large family, and therefore looked upon the boy with an unfriendly eye, and sometimes treated him unkindly. One dark night he let himself down from a window and ran away, still carrying me with him. After walking for some time he came to a large city, where he went into the market and with much sorrow he offered me for sale, for he was penniless. My rare beauty drew many admirers, but all refused to pay the exorbitant price demanded. At last, however, a rich gentleman purchased me. He took me to a fine house where he showed me to his wife; she admired me

very much. I was then given to the gardener with directions for planting me by a fountain where I now am. Here in this lovely spot, the companion of the most gorgeous flowers, beside this crystal fountain, whose tinkling sound mingling with the rustling of the breeze makes "music soft and low," one would think I could ask nothing more. "Tis true I love these bright flowers, but the bright cheek and lips of the invalid were dearer to me, for I felt that I was her consoler. I love this crystal fountain that waters me, but dearer far were the tears of that orphan boy, for as they dropped on my leaves I threw back my sweetest perfume to revive his drooping spirit; I awakened memories of his sainted mother; I made him happy. Thus, as we strew blessings along the pathway of the sorrowing, so are we made happy in return.

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LIFE'S SMILES.

LIFE! ah! what is it? illusive and bright;
An angel's brief visit in a halo of light?
Ah! who shall define it, and what may it be?
A light dancing shallop on time's silver sea?

A flood of warm sunlight shed down from on high?
A moonbeam's soft glow, from a star-spangled sky?
A meteor's glare in the darkness of night,
Or lightning's quick flash, evanescent and bright"
An eagle's strong wing, dashing quickly away,
Or soaring more proudly in quest of his prey?
A mist that may rise to the thunder-bolt's berth,
Or sink and dissolve in the bogs of the earth?
O, tell us what is it, ye sages--who knows
From whence is its coming, and whither it goes?

A rainbow, whose splendor, the vision may lure,
With tints all too beautiful long to endure?
A dew-spangled morn-a fair summer flower,
Whose glories evanish and fade in a hour?
A zephyr—a tempest—a torrent—a pool?
A quiet-a tumult-a lesson-a school?
A fleeting probation-a shifting of scene?
A mystification—and what does it mean?
A pleasure exquisite-a medley-a pain-
O, say you what is it?—I pray you explain,
Ye that have kenn'd of it, silence forego.
What is the end of it? tell if ye know.

Mortal! list, and you shall hear.
Life's a joy and life's a tear :
Quickly o'er, or wiped away:

Soon is closed, its transient day.

Life is fleeting,

Life is free;

Life's a shallop on time's sea.

Life's a shadow,

Life is bright,

Life's a halo,

Life is light:

Life's a sunbeam from on high,—
Moonlight in a starry sky.
Life's a meteor of the night;
Life is lightning-quick and brigh
Life's an eagle-swift of wing;
Life's a brief-a transient thing.
Life's a mist, destined to soar,
Or to sink and rise no more!
Life's a rainbow,

Life's a dew;

Life has tints of every huc.

Life's a vision,

Life's a dream,

Life's a tumult,

Life's a theme,

Life's a zephyr,

Life's a flower,

Life may vanish in an hour.

Life's a torrent,

Life's a pool,

Life's a lesson,

Life's a schooi;

Life's a tempest,

Life's a calm,

Life's a blessing,

Life's a balm :

Life's a drama,

Life's a scene,

Life is shifting,

Life is lean,

Life's a struggle,

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