DEATH OF AN INFANT. BY L. H. SIGOURNEY. DEATH found strange beauty on that polished brow, And dashed it out. There was a tint of rose On cheek and lip; -he touched the veins with ice, And the rose faded. Forth from those blue eyes There spake a wishful tenderness—a doubt Whether to grieve or sleep, which innocence Alone may wear. With ruthless haste, he bound The silken fringes of those curtaining lids For ever. There had been a murmuring sound, With which the babe would claim its mother's ear, Charming her even to tears. The spoiler set THE SMILE OF INNOCENCE." BY L. M. DAVIDSON. THERE is a smile of bitter scorn, Which curls the lip, which lights the eye; There is a smile in beauty's morn Just rising o'er the midnight sky. There is a smile of youthful joy, When hope's bright star's the transient guest; There is a smile of placid age, Like sunset on the billow's breast. There is a smile, the maniac's smile, Which lights the void which reason leaves, And, like the sunshine through a cloud, Throws shadows o'er the song she weaves. There is a smile of love, of hope, Which shines a meteor through life's gloom; And there's a smile, Religion's smile, Which lights the weary to the tomb. There is a smile, an angel smile, That sainted souls behind them leave; There is a smile which shines through toil, And warms the bosom, though in grief. THE SMILE OF INNOCENCE. And there's a smile on nature's face When evening spreads her shades around; It is a smile which angels might It is the smile of innocence, Of sleeping infancy's light dream; It dances round the dimpled cheek, A human heart devoid of sin. 175 MEMORY. BY W. G. CLARK. 'Tis sweet, to remember! I would not forego The charm which the Past o'er the Present can throw, For all the gay visions that Fancy may weave In her web of illusion, that shines to deceive. We know not the future, the past we have felt, - Its cherished enjoyments the bosom can melt; Its raptures anew o'er our pulses may roll, 'Tis sweet, to remember! When storms are abroad, 'Tis sweet to remember! When friends are unkind,When their coldness and carelessness shadow the mind: Then, to draw back the veil which envelopes a land, 'Tis sweet, to remember! And naught can destroy |