As through the garden's sweet domain The bee from leaf to leaf will rove, Will cull its sweets with anxious pain, Then bear its treasures to his love; So from those leaves which bring to view Things hid by fate in Time's dark reign, With care I'd cull, dear girl, for you, The richest blessings they contain; But fortune here our power restrains, Nor leaves her blessings in our hand: To wish, alone to us remains, The Gift is still at her command.
Take, then, sweet maid, this wish sincere, Which in a friendly heart doth glow— A heart which will thy worth revere Till life's rich streams shall cease to flow: On the fair morning of thy life May love beam forth his brightest ray,— May friendship's joys, unvexed by strife, Glad the meridian of thy day; And when life's solemn eve shall come, And time to you shall ever cease, May then religion cheer the gloom, And light thy path to endless peace.
EPITAPH UPON A DOG.
BY C. F. HOFFMAN.
An ear that caught my slightest tone In kindness or in anger spoken; An eye that ever watch'd my own In vigils death alone has broken; Its changeless, ceaseless, and unbought Affection to the last revealing; Beaming almost with human thought, And more than human feeling!
Can such in endless sleep be chilled, And mortal pride disdain to sorrow, Because the pulse that here was stilled May wake to no immortal morrow? Can faith, devotedness, and love, That seem to humbler creatures given To tell us what we owe above! The types of what is due to Heaven?
Can these be with the things that were, Things cherished—but no more returning; And leave behind no trace of care, No shade that speaks a moment's mourning? Alas! my friend, of all of worth, That years have stol'n or years yet leave me, I've never known so much on earth, But that the loss of thine must grieve me.