LOVE'S BLIND.

BY CHARLES H. PORTER.

"Love's Blind," they say,-an olden ruleBut he who made it was a fool;

And they who trust him are not wise,
Love rather hath a thousand eyes.

"Love's blind," they say who think they find
Truth here, but prove themselves are blind:
If so, how could his arrows fly
With such unerring certainty ?

I thought so, till from Stella's eye
The villain let an arrow fly ;-
It came so straight I could not flee-
And proved full well that love can see.

Then all beware :-that love's a rogue
He'll either come to you incog. ;
Or else he'll say to you "I'm blind,"
And thus an easy entrance find.

TO THE AUTHOR'S WIFE,

ABSENT ON A VISIT.

BY SEBA SMITH.

COME home my dear Elizabeth ;
I'm sure could you but know
The sadness of my lonely hours,
You would not leave so.

If love could not restrain you,
Sure the kindness of your heart
Would not allow that mine so long
Should feel this aching smart.

Like the dove that found no resting
On the weary waters wide,
I wander, but I find no rest
Apart from thee, my bride.

то

THE AUTHOR'S WIFE.

77

Yes bride I still must call thee,

Though sixteen years have fled, Fraught with the ills and joys of life, Since the day that saw us wed.

Yes bride I still must call thee,
For still I feel thou art

The morning light unto mine eyes,
And the life-blood to my heart.

Kind friends may be around me,
With gentle words and tone,
And all the light, gay world may smile,
But still I am alone.

The bright bird that you left me,

Chirps often through the day, And his music but reminds me That you are far away.

For your sake I will feed him

With fresh seeds and with flowers,

And his morning and his evening song
Shall count my weary hours.

And oft our little Edward

Comes clinging to my knee,

And says with loud and hearty laugh, 'Dear Father, play with me.'

And when I kiss his little cheek,
His bright blue eyes look glad;
And I talk with him and play with him,
But still my heart is sad.

My sun of life, Elizabeth,

Hath passed its fervent noon; I feel the sear and yellow leaf' Will be upon me soon :

But though misfortunes press me,
And the world be false and cold,
Let thy love and presence bless me
And I'll mind not growing old.

And I'll mind not fortune's frowning,
Nor the heartlessness of men,

When I see thee home returning,

Our abode to cheer again.

JACOB'S FUNERAL.

BY CHARLES W. UPHAM.

*

A TRAIN came forth from Egypt's land,
Mournful and slow their tread;
And sad the leader of that band-
The bearers of the dead.

His father's bones they bore away,
To lay them in the grave
Where Abraham and Isaac lay,
Macpelah's sacred cave.

A stately train, dark Egypt's pride,

Chariot and horse are there;

And silently, in sorrow ride

Old men of hoary hair.

For many days they passed along

To Atad's threshing floor,

And sang their last and saddest song Upon the Jordan's shore.