And, o’er the glad wave weeping,
I felt my grief depart.
Frances Sargent Osgood.
THE WAY-SIDE SPRING.
Fair dweller by the dusty way,
Bright saint within a mossy shrine,
The tribute of a heart to-day,
Weary and worn, is thine.
The earliest blossoms of the year,
The sweet-brier and the violet,