The friends I once condemned are now
Affectionate and true :

I wept a pledged one's broken vow-
But he proves faithful too.

And now there is a happiness

In everything I see,

Which bids my soul rise up and bless

The God who blesses me.

ANNE P. DINNIES.

FRIENDS.

OUR old friends, no doubt, will be true friends,
The longer we love them, the more;
But shut not your heart against new friends,
Though one be but true in a score;
Prize the one you have proved, as a jewel,
With which it were madness to part;
Who would carelessly throw by the fuel

That keeps up the warmth of the heart?
Of true souls how good the communion

Throughout the wide world as we roam ! To preserve then the strong chain of union, Let us rivet the fond links at home!

C. JEFFERYS.

1

"

THE BRIDE.

HY do I weep? to leave the vine
Whose clusters o'er me bend,
The myrtle-yet oh! call it mine,
The flowers I loved to tend.
A thought of all things dear
Like shadows o'er me sweep;
I leave my sunny childhood here,
Oh! therefore let me weep!

I leave thee, sister! we have played
Through many a joyous hour,

Where the silvery green of the olive shade
Hung dim o'er fount and bower.
Yes, thou and I by stream, by shore
In song, in prayer, in sleep
Have been as we may be no more-
Kind sister, let me weep!

I leave thee, father! eve's bright moon
Must now light other feet

With the gathered grapes and the lyre in tune
Thy homeward steps to greet.

Thou! in whose voice, to bless thy child,
Lay tones of love so deep,

Whose eye o'er all my youth hath smiled,
I leave thee! let me weep!

Mother! I leave thee! on thy breast,
Pouring out joy and woe,

I have found that holy place of rest
Still changeless-yet I go!

Lips! that have lulled me with your strains,
Eyes! that have watched my sleep:

Will earth give love like yours again?

Sweet mother! let me weep!

MRS. HEMANS.

FLOWERS.

THERE's not a flower of spring

That dies ere June, but vaunts itself allied
By issue and symbol, by significance
And correspondence, to that spirit world
Outside the limits of our space and time,
Whereto we are bound.

E. B. BROWNING.

SHERENE.

HEN come, Sherene! I've found a grove,
Beneath a wild hill's purple van,

Where coos the silver-bosom'd dove;
Where the wild peacock spreads his fan;
Where springs the roebuck in his glee:
Love, hear my lute, it sings to thee:

There, on the valley's blossom'd slope,

Shines to the sun the pheasant's plume,

There, like a ray, the antelope

Gleams through the thicket's fragrant gloom.

The stately camel bends the knee:

Love, hear my lute-""Tis all for thee."

There morn is like a new-waked rose,

And like a rosy shower the noon; And evening, like a sweet song's close; And like a sun half veil'd, the moon. But dark my paradise will be:

Soul of my soul, I die for thee.

CROLY.

FRIENDSHIP.

HEN first the Friendship flower is planted

W Within the garden of your soul,

Little of care or thought are wanted
To guard its beauty fresh and whole;
But when the one impassioned age
Has full revealed the magic bloom,
A wise and holy tutelage

Alone can shun the open tomb.

It is not absence you should dread,
For absence is the very air

In which, if sound at root, the head
Shall wave most wonderful and fair;
With sympathies of joy and sorrow,
Fed, as with morn and ev'ning dews,
Ideal colouring it may borrow

Richer than ever earthly hues.