That bound the vale of childhood and his home,
Sees but the mansion where his kindred dwell
Filling the prospect of his mental eye;
So in her frequent pilgrimage among

Departed scenes, my mind thine image sole,
My loved and buried! sees and blends with all.
How sweet, dear sainted spirit, were the days
Of our entwined affection! Ere the tie
That made us one was bound, its tint of joy
Was with my being blent, and made my life.
As 'twere a charmed existence. Oh how calm
Beneath its spell, the twilight stroll along
The murmuring stream that only spoke of thee!
How shone the moon-beam with it to my soul!
And how perfumed therewith the breath of morn!
How populous with thine image rendered it
The solitude; and how it blessed my dreams!
Wrapped in its blissful atmosphere, as erst
Æneas, by his goddess mother clad
In cloud invisible, I joyed to hold
My secret treasure and my talisman.

Yet did not Fancy's richest oracle
The half foretell of rapture realized
In wedded life. Oh more of happiness
Than oft is mortal's measure, then befell,

THOUGHTS.

How o'er each scene of mutual joy and grief,
Its memory like a halo lingereth!

Dear golden days of blessedness complete!
When sorrow was not sorrow, and when joy
Was more than joyous, in such blended love!
No gladness lit my eye, but thine, sweet one,
Beamed prompt reflection; not a trouble knit
The ridges of my brow, but instant thine
Made sympathetic answer. Not a tear
Coursed an unwonted channel down my cheek,
But met and mingled with the unsealed fount
Of thine affection; or beneath thy kiss
Forgot to fall, and vanished in a smile.
Shared was my every lot, and rapture-fraught,
Each hour but plumed the silken wings of joy.
Blest in the past, and of the present fond
Inebriate, what wonder that my eye

Dazzled by Hope's bright countenance, forgot
Her golden anchor had its hold in heaven.

Alas! thy pleasures, Earth, are like thy flowers! As sweet, as transient: whoso loveth them, Shall love, ere long, a shadow, and shall mourn That earthly joys are mortal. He shall know Thy brightest star is but a meteor's glare;

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Thy sweetest song a prelude to decay;
Thy fairest form a tinselry of dust.

Long shall he sigh o'er that which was-but ah!
Which comes no more, save in the tantalism
Of dreams that vanish in their gladdening.
Among such wakened dreamers, God of love!
Thou hast enrolled me. Humbly would I bow.

And can it must it be, that all that gave This heart contentment, and the world its charm, Hath gone forever with the things that were ? Must that sweet voice, like angel minstrelsy

Once skilled to soothe, be heard no more on earth? And those dear features with their love-lit smile

Be lost, save in the visions of the past?

Oh, must that cherished form of loveliness,
These longing arms and this bereaved embrace
Revisit not again? Ah! mournfully

The desolations of an anguished heart

Respond amid an aching silence-"Never !"

And yet, oh Death! thou shall not triumph. See !

Clad in her shining robes of angel white,

Religion comes.
With smile as calm, as sweet,
As that which shone of late on features thou
Hast stiffened now, she wipes the swelling tear
Of sorrow off, and points the kindling eye
First to the living Word, and then to Heaven.
Catch, oh my soul, the bright, enrapturing thought!
She lives! she lives! Her blessed spirit lives!
Her eye, her smile, her voice survive the tomb !
Yes-in the more than emeraldine fields,
Lit by the quenchless beam of Deity,

Thou dost re-union, re-communion wait

With the lone soul, still earth-bound, mourning thee.
Perchance he lingereth briefly. Soon may come
The welcome summons, undelayed to bid

Corruption incorruption to put on,

And mortal immortality. Oh then

How shall his spirit leap exultant forth,

And with thine own, in pure perfected love,
Walk the bright fields where joy can never die!

The Last Look.

ANONYMOUS.

THE last look at the countenance of a dear friend, how tender, how touching, how impossible to describe! The heart goes forth from the eyes to the object, and concentrates upon it its intensest affection. So the elders of Ephesus fell upon Paul's neck and kissed him, sorrowing most of all, for the words which he spake that they should should see his face no more :-Acts, xx. 38. Streaming eyes fastened upon that countenance still beaming with sacred love, and impressed with the deep solicitude just expressed in the pathetic words of his farewell address. It was their last look at a living friend, awakening a thousand thrilling recollections, associated with the grief of a final separation, for time. How often we cast the last look upon the pale features of friend after friend, returning no response to our tears, as they lie in the marble sleep of death, and then are shrouded in the darkness of the grave.

But the last look, for time, between Christ's friends, is not the last for eternity. Soon they will meet and behold