[7]

THE

GOLDEN PRESENT.

Think of me.

Go, where the water glideth gently ever,*
Glideth by meadows that still greenest be;
Go, listen to our own beloved river,
And think of me!

Wander in forests where the small flower layeth,
Its fairy gem beneath the giant tree;
Listen the dim brook pining while it playeth,
And think of me!

Watch when the sky is silver-pale and even,
And the wind grieveth on the lonely tree;
Go out beneath the solitary heaven,

And think of me!

And when the moon riseth, as she were dreaming, And treadeth with white feet the lulled sea; Go, silent as a star beneath her beaming

And think of me!

HAMILTON'S GARDEN OF FLORENCE.

Separation.

In any case, a feeling of sadness will come over the heart, at the reflection that a friend whom we have loved will be with us no more. The word farewell! has in it something dirge-like, which all more or less feel -so many things may take place that prevent the after-meeting of those who part, or they may meet with altered feelings. One may drink of the poisoned chalice of selfishness, and return to his friend with a chilled heart, and meet the beaming eye, the grasp of affection, with a cold smile of recognition. O! I would rather never, never again see those I have loved, and whose remembrance is twined around my heart, than meet the averted eye of changed affection. I would rather kneel above the graves of those with whom I parted in friendship, than read upon their living faces the change which the cold world may have wrought within their hearts.

It is sad to part from those we have been accustomed to see daily, from whom we have been in the habit of receiving those little, kind attentions which make life pleasant; but harder than all for woman to say farewell to him she loves; to feel that years may intervene before the sound of that dear voice shall again gladden her ear those eyes, whose expression has ever been kindly, shall lighten her heart; to know that she has felt the pressure of that friendly hand for the last time and that through the long future they shall be as strangers. MRS. J. THAYER.

Night.

I HEARD the trailing garments of the night
Sweep through her marble halls;

I saw her sable skirts all fringed with light
From the celestial walls.

I felt her presence by its spell of might
Stoop o'er me from above;