Fair Poesy, deep blushing, Gave music back the toy, While through her heart was rushing A pure unwonted joy'Nay, lovely sister! hear me, 'With me do thou abide, 'Forever one and near me, 'My throne thou shalt divide. 'When from their breathing slumbers Thou pour'st sweet strains along, 'I'll catch the airy numbers, 'And weave them into song. 'I'll cull fair flowers, and warm them With spirit from above, 'And thou shalt all inform them 'With melody and love.' Thus formed, this fond alliance FOOTSTEPS OF ANGELS. BY HENRY W. LONGFELLOW. WHEN the hours of day are numbered, Ere the evening lamps are lighted, Then the forms of the departed The beloved ones, the true-hearted, Come to visit me once more; He, the young and strong, who cherished By the road-side fell and perished, They, the holy ones and weakly, And with them the Being Beauteous, With a slow and noiseless footstep, And she sits and gazes at me, With those deep and tender eyes, Like the stars, so still and saint-like, Looking downward from the skies. FOOTSTEPS OF ANGELS. Uttered not, yet comprehended, O, though oft depressed and lonely, If I but remember only Such as these have lived and died! 143 OH THINK NOT THAT THE DREAM IS PAST! BY JOHN B. L. SOULE. ОH THINK not that the dream is past Of scenes when fondest hopes were cherished; Though but the shadow now may last Of each bright hope forever perished. I know that fortune hath decreed These hearts shall never be united; I know that mine alone must bleed, That mine alone was truly plighted. Although the strain which now I pour |