THE FORGET-ME-NOT.

Among the meadow-grasses dank
That fringe the running stream,
This little flower begems the bank
With turquoise-coloured gleam.
Emblem of many a mortal's lot,
Who, tracking bygone years,
Still finds the sweet Forget-me-not
Fast by the fount of tears.

TEXTS ON TOMBSTONES.

Where round our church the pious stones
Watch the green pillows of the dead,
Pass not, but read in reverent tones
The silent Scripture overhead.
From desert peak the storm-cloud poured
Light on the tables of the Law,
But sunshine here o'er flowers and sward
Reveals the grace that softens awe.
And faith will greet on many a tomb
An emblem of His loving speech
Who said, if every mouth were dumb
The very stones His truth would teach.

ROSE GARDEN AT ASHRIDGE.