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In thy home beyond the seas !" But he only heard the gentle sigh

Of the summer breeze, So softly passing by

The acacia trees.

And vainly, too, the other, looking

Smiling up through hopeful tears, Asked in his heart of hearts, “ Where is she,

She I love these many years ?” He heard no echo calling faintly :

“ Lo, she lieth cold and pale, And her smile so calm and saintly

Heeds not grieving sob or wailHeeds not the lilies strewn upon her,

Pure as she is, and as white,
Or the solemn chanting voices,

Or the taper's ghastly light.”
But silent still was the ancient forest,

Silent were the gloomy trees,
He only heard the wailing sound

Of the summer breeze, That sadly played around

The acącia trees!

HUSH!

66 For

CAN scarcely hear,” she murmured,

my

heart beats loud and fast, But surely, in the far, far distance, I can hear a sound at last.” “ It is only the reapers singing,

As they carry home their sheaves;
And the evening breeze has risen,

And rustles the dying leaves.”

“ Listen ! there are voices talking.”

Calmly still she strove to speak,
Yet, her voice grew faint and trembling,
And the red flushed in her cheek.
“ It is only the children playing

Below, now their work is done,
And they laugh that their eyes are dazzled

By the rays of the setting sun."

Fainter grew her voice, and weaker,

As with anxious eyes she cried, “ Down the avenue of chestnuts, I can hear a horseman ride.” “ It was only the deer that were feeding

In a herd on the clover grass,
They were startled, and fled to the thicket

As they saw the reapers pass.”

Now the night arose in silence,

Birds lay in their leafy nest,
And the deer couched in the forest,
And the children were at rest;
There was only a sound of weeping

From watchers around a bed,
But Rest to the weary spirit,

Peace to the quiet Dead !

HOURS.

HEN the bright stars came out last night,

And the dew lay on the flowers,

I had a vision of delightA dream of by-gone hours.

Those hours that came and fled so fast

Of pleasure or of pain,
As phantoms rose from out the past

Before my eyes again.

With beating heart did I behold

A train of joyous hours,
Lit with the radiant light of old,

And, smiling, crowned with flowers.

And some were hours of childish sorrow,

A mimicry of pain,

That through their tears looked for a morrow

They knew must smile again.

Those hours of hope that longed for life,

And wished their part begun, And ere the summons to the strife,

Dreamed that the field was won.

I knew the echo of their voice,

The starry crowns they wore; The vision made my soul rejoice

With the old thrill of yore.

I knew the perfume of their flowers;

The glorious shining rays Around these happy smiling hours

Were lit in by-gone days.

O stay, I cried—bright visions, stay,

And leave me not forlorn!
But, smiling still, they passed away,

Like shadows of the morn.

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