I SAW FROM THE BEACH.

AIR-"Miss Molly."

A SAW from the beach, when the morn ing was shining,

A bark o'er the waters move glorious. ly on;

I came when the sun o'er that beach was declining,

The bark was still there, but the waters were gone.

And such is the fate of our life's early promise,

So passing the spring-tide of joy we have known;

Each wave, that we danced on at morning, ebbs from us,

And leaves us, at eve, on the bleak shore alone.

Ne'er tell me of glories, serenely adorning

The close of our day, the calm eve of our night ;

Give me back, give me back the wild freshness of Morning,

Her clouds and her tears are worth
Evening's best light.

O, who would not welcome that moment's returning,

When passion first waked a new life through his frame,

And his soul, like the wood, that grows precious in burning,

Gave out all its sweets to love's exquisite flame?

I CANNOT SING THE OLD SONGS.

CLARIBEL.

I CANNOT sing the old songs

I sung, long years ago :
For, heart and voice would fail me,
And foolish tears would flow;
For, by-gone hours come o'er my heart,
With each familiar strain :

I cannot sing the old songs,
Or dream those dreams again;
I cannot sing the old songs,
Or dream those dreams again!

I cannot sing the old songs,
Their charm is sad and deep;
Their melodies would waken
Old sorrows from their sleep;
And tho' all unforgotten still,
And sadly sweet they be-

I cannot sing the old songs,
They are too dear to me ;
I cannot sing the old songs,
They are too dear to me !-
I cannot sing the old songs:
For, visions come again
Of golden dreams departed,
And years of weary pain.
Perhaps, when earthly fetters shall
Have set my spirit free,

My voice may know the old songs,
For all eternity!-

My voice may know the old songs,
For all eternity!-

LISTEN TO THE MOCKING-BIRD.

ALICE HAWTHORNE.

I'm dreaming now of Hally, sweet Hally, I'm dreaming now of Hally:

For, the thought of her is one that never dies

She's sleeping in the valley, the valley, the valley,

She's sleeping in the valley,

And the mocking-bird is singing where she lies.

Listen to the mocking-bird,
Listen to the mocking-bird,

The mocking-bird still singing o'er her

grave;

Listen to the mocking-bird,

Listen to the mocking-bird,

Still singing where the weeping willows

wave.

Ah well I yet remember, remember, remember,

Ah! well I yet remember When we gathered in the cotton, side by side:

"Twas in the mild September, September, September,

"Twas in the mild September, And the mocking-bird was singing far and wide.

Listen to the mocking-bird, etc.

When the charms of spring awaken, awaken, awaken,

When the charms of spring awaken, And the mocking-bird is singing on the bough,

I feel like one forsaken, forsaken, for

saken,

I feel like one forsaken,

Since Hally is no longer with me now.
Listen to the mocking-bird, etc.

TERRY MALONE.

DESMOND RYAN.

ONE ev'ning from market returning,
Just thinking of what I'll not name ;
May be some of ye guess, ah ! now don't

ye?

For 'tis few have not thought of the

same.

But my heart is as open as sunshine,
A secret lies heavy as stone;
So I'll even confess, without blushing,
I was thinking of Terry Malone.

If you spake of some one I'll not mention
It is certain, they say,
he'll appear;
And so of the lad I was thinking,

By the bosheen I saw him draw near.
I was pleased and yet sorry to see
him,

And he asked me to meet him

alone;

For I very well knew what he wanted,

So avoided poor Terry Malone.

Coming home the next ev'ning quite

lonely,

All at once who d'ye think I did spy? But Terry himself in a flurry,