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On, on he passed, that human flower
Whom men set foot on like a weed;
Yet, waiting for a kinder hour,

Within was many a precious seed.
The beggar's spirit, like his dress,
Might not be wholly fair, indeed,
Yet some bright bud of loveliness,

The germ of many a noble deed,
Did we but take the pains to find,
Blooms fresh in each neglected mind.

The simple plucking of that flower
Betrayed a tenderness of thought
Ready to find in every hour

The kindred sweetness that it soughtA sense of beauty seldom found

Where all within is darkly fraught,
But often trampled to the ground

And mercilessly set at naught
By those who in their selfish power
Treat as the weed what is the flower.

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A MOTHER'S LAMENT.

AKE it wide, make it deep, and with moss be it lined:

His delicate limbs no rude pebbles shall wound;

My babe with its mother in death shall be joined.

Then the lord of my wishes, no longer unkind,

May shed a fond tear on the grief-hallowed ground.

Lay it close by my side,

Lay it close by my side;

'Tis the child of my Edmond, and I was his bride.

Who says that I murdered the peace of my love

That his heart was another's, his hand only mine?

Hush, hush! 'tis not true! Her affection to

prove,

His Eudora each obstacle soon will remove, Content for his sake every bliss to resign.

With my babe on my breast,

With my babe on my breast, My heart's lord shall be happy, and I be at

rest.

Then if, hand locked in hand, o'er my grave they should stray,

And vanity smile o'er the ruins of love, Yet let justice and pity instruct them to say, "She merited better, but fate had its way, And now her pure spirit is soaring above.

With her babe on her breast, With her babe on her breast, Now earth shrinks from her view, and the mourner's at rest."

ELIZABETH TREFUSIS.

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NEW YEAR'S EVE.

209

The branches were all laden

With such things as children prize— Bright gifts for boy and maiden:

She saw them with her eyes.

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And she folded both her thin white hands

And turned from that bright board And from the golden gifts, and said, "With thee, with thee, O Lord!"

The chilly winter morning

Breaks, up in the dull skies, On the city wrapped in vapor,

On the spot where Gretchen lies. The night was cold and stormy, The morn is cold and gray; The good church-bells are ringing Christ's circumcision-day.

In her scant and tattered garment, With her back against the wall, She sitteth cold and rigid;

She answers not their call.

They have lifted her up fearfully;

They shuddered as they said, "It was a bitter, bitter night:

The child is frozen dead."

The angels sang their greeting

For one more redeemed from sin; Men said, "It was a bitter night; Would no one let her in ?"

And they shuddered as they spoke of her,
And sighed they could not see
How much of happiness there was
With so much misery.

HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN.

LOVE IN THE COUNTRY.

HAVE you seen my sweetheart

Passing on the way

Like a hillside sun-gleam
On a harvest-day?

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