Flowers are emblems of our youth,
Emblems of innocence and truth,
For though their freshness must decay,
Their fragrance will not pass away.
So, youthful beauty soon must fail;
The eye grow dim, the cheek grow pale;
The brow that now is pure and fair,
May soon be shaded o'er by care.But if within the trusting heart
Goodness and innocence have part;
If we God's holy law fulfil,
And bow submissive to his will,
Then shall the heart, like some sweet flow'r,
That's lightly pluck'd from beauty's bow'r,
And rudely crush'd beneath the feet,
Yield fragrance far more pure and sweet
Than when in sunshine and the dew,
A fair and beauteous flow'r it grew,
The Old Castle.
In olden times, so legends tell,
In lordly castle there did dwell
A lady fair, of noble birth,
Of beauty rare and matchless worth.And she was flattered and caressed,--
The poor her generous bounty blessed;
Princes and lords, a gorgeous crowd,
Before her peerless beauty bow'd.Lady and courtiers passed away,
This ivyed tower, these ruins gray
Are all that's left to tell the story,
Of grandeur, pomp, and former glory.Thus, Time moves on, with ceaseless tread,
Still adding to the silent dead;
Nor power, nor splendor can withstand
The touch of its effacing hand.
The Myrtle.
This Myrtle wreath will never fade,
In sunshine or in gloom,
When wintry storms sweep o'er the glade,
Its flow'rs will brighter bloom,
So Virtue's lamp will brighter be,
'Mid storms of dark adversity.
Death.
Thou pale visitant of the spirit land, why dost thou hover ever round the shades of time, and ever ply thy bark on yonder sluggish stream, whose oozy waters bear thee on its bosom? Why dost thou ever bear away a victim that returns not with thee? As we look for thy returning bark "through the vista, long and dark it comes with thee alone." Thou mysterious messenger, where dost bear those whom thou dost convey away?--but hark! that voice! husky, hollow, but impressive, the spirit shall return unto God who gave it. But now I see thee more distinctly, thou grisly monster; I know thy form, thou conqueror of conquerors, and thou king of kings. But yesterday I saw a smiling infant in its fond mother's arms; a thousand dimpling smiles played around its beautiful features, and its eyes beamed with brilliancy; thou didst approach, and lay thy icy hand upon its fluttering pulses, and all was still. The parted lips had closed with the passing smile yet upon them, the eye had ceased to roll, that little form was cold and motionless as the clods of the valley, life had ebbed away, the mysterious link that bound the soul to the body was broken; the spirit had departed; many witnessed the expiring struggle, but none saw the spirit as it took its flight from its clay tenement; yet it had gone with thee over yon dark stream.
Again I entered the chamber where a father lay, upon whom a numerous family were dependant. Thou wast there; thy icy breath was upon him; thy agonizing throes were depicted on his pallid countenance; his expansive chest heaved laboriously; his shortening breath came up convulsively, and his eyes seemed starting from their sockets. He had been called suddenly--unexpectedly to meet thee. A tearful wife and children gathered around the bed, formed an interesting group, and strove in vain to allay the agony of the husband and father. But a sterner blow, and that wife was a widow, those children fatherless. Thou hadst taken that father to "that undiscovered country from whose bourne no traveler e'er returns." That weeping wife and those children "were cast abandoned on the world's wide stage, doomed in scanty poverty to roam." But still I followed thee, thou fell destroyer of the human race, determined to portray thy doings.
A gentle mother next received thy visitation, falling a prey to thy relentless hand. Five darling children shared her maternal love, as day by day she ministered to their necessities. The rose had long since faded from her cheek; an unwonted lustre lit up her eye, and her step became more and more feeble, 'till thou didst summon her away, leaving a void in the hearts of those children that can never be filled. Sad, sickening was the sight as I followed in thy train, and saw father, mother, sister, brother, and all the endearing relations of life, fall before thy sway. But thou art coeval with the race; there lives not a man who will not bow before thy sceptre; all must drink from thy cup. The crowned monarch and the beggar sleep side by side, and their mingled dust is the sport of the winds of the heavens. Then may we
"So live, that when our summons comes to join
The innumerable caravan, that moves
To the pale realms of shade, where each shall take
His chambers in the silent halls of death,
We go not like the quarry slave at night,
Scourged to his dungeon; but sustained and soothed
By an unfaltering trust, approach our graves
Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch
About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams."