FLOWERS. This poem was cut from one of the newspapers many years ago. The author's name is not known. OH! they look'd upward in every place But the children of showers and sunny beams The bright, bright flowers! They tell of a season when men were not, When spirits, singing their hymns at even, And the Lord looked down from the highest heaven, The bright, bright flowers! That blessing remaineth upon them still, The bright, bright flowers! The lily is lovely as when it slept The woodbine breathes sweetly as when it crept They were left as a proof of the loveliness Of Adam and Eve's first home: They are here as a type of the joys that bless The just in the world to come The bright, bright flowers! THE FUTURE LIFE. By BRYANT, the American poet. How shall I know thee in the sphere which keeps When all of thee that time could wither sleeps For I shall feel the sting of ceaseless pain Will not thy own meek heart demand me there? Shall it be banish'd from thy tongue in heaven? In meadows fann'd by heaven's life-breathing wind, The love that lived through all the stormy past, A happier lot than mine, and larger light, In cheerful homage to the rule of right, For me, the sordid cares in which I dwell, Yet though thou wear'st the glory of the sky, Shalt thou not teach me, in that calmer home, A DAY-DREAM. COLERIDGE is remarkable for the suggestive character of his compositions. He not only conveys his own beautiful and profound thoughts to the reader, but makes the reader think for himself and create new thoughts of his own. This is remarkably seen in the following: Mr eyes make pictures when they're shut :- A willow and a ruin'd hut, And thee, and me, and Mary there, A wild rose roofs the ruin'd shed, And that and summer well agree; And lo! where Mary leans her head, green Two dear names carved upon the tree! willow! And Mary's tears, they are not tears of sorrow: Our sister and our friend will both be here to-morrow. 'Twas day! But now, few, large and bright, The stars are round the crescent moon! And now it is a dark, warm night, The balmiest of the month of June. A glow-worm fallen, and on the marge remounting Shines, and its shadow shines, fit stars for our sweet fountain! O, ever, ever be thou blest! For dearly, Nora! love I thee! This brooding warmth across my breast, This depth of tranquil bliss-ah, me! Fount, tree, and shed are gone, I know not whither But in one quiet room we three are still together. The shadows dance upon the wall, By the still-dancing fire-flames made; And now they slumber, moveless all! And now they melt to one deep shade! When I walked forth upon the glittering grass, Hard hearts, and cold, like weights of icy stone Which crush'd and wither'd mine, that could not be Aught but a lifeless clog, until revived by thee. Thou Friend, whose presence on my wintry heart Fell, like bright Spring upon some herbless plain, How beautiful and calm and free thou wert In thy young wisdom, when the mortal chain Of Custom thou didst burst and rend in twain, And walk'd as free as light the clouds among, Which many an envious slave then breathed in vain From his dim dungeon, and my spirit sprung To meet thee from the woes which had begirt it long. No more alone through the world's wilderness, And cherish'd friends turn with the multitude And with inconstant fortune, friends return; Time may interpret to me sen Yet in the paleness of ti tuvusetus tarde And in thy sweetest smiet. a And in thy gentle spec. & pr Is whispered, to subdue my ispod wod f They say that thou wert lover from to ایا اور خود Which clothed thee it. ties Of its departing glory; ei Shines on thee, througi tu votape ha d' Which shake these later Gaye The shelter, from thy Sirs, of a |