Then come to my cottage—though cool be the shade,
And verdant the sod 'neath the wide-spreading bough—
Where the wood-dove its nest 'mid the foliage hath made,
Yet lone is that cottage, and desolate now.
For as the green forest, bereft of the dove,
No more with sweet echoes would musical be—
Even so is the rose-mantled bower of love,
Unblest and uncheered, if not gladdened by thee.
A DREAM WITHIN A DREAM
BY C. A. WASHBURN.
I dreamed that for a long time I courted Charlotte—what need of dreaming? It was true. Nevertheless I dreamed that for a long time I courted Charlotte, and at last, which was not true, married her. And I thought that Charlotte and I lived very happily together.
She loved me better than she ever thought she could before we were married, for I loved her exceedingly, and was very kind to her.
I remember how long it was that I wooed her, · always hoping, though sometimes fearing that she would never love me so as to marry me; how, when at last we were married, and I carried her home to my pretty cottage, I could hardly contain myself for joy; and when I saw her seated in our own parlor on the wedding eve, I could not keep a tear from trickling down my cheek; and how she kissed away the tear, and when she knew the cause, how she burst into a flood of tears, and said she would love me the better for my having loved her so; and how that we were from that time wholly united in heart and sympathy.