What joyous hopes, what high resolves, The silent picture on the wall, Of all that beauty, life, and joy, One year, one year, one little year, And so much gone! And yet the even flow of life Moves calmly on. The grave grows green, the flowers bloom fair, No sorrowing tint of leaf or spray No pause or hush of merry birds Tells us how calmly sleeps below Where hast thou been this year, beloved? What hast thou seen? What visions fair, what glorious life, Where thou hast been! The veil, the veil-so thin, so strong- The mystic veil, when shall it fall, Not dead, not sleeping, not even gone; And waiting for the coming hour Of God's sweet will! Lord of the living and the dead, Our Saviour dear, We lay in silence at Thy feet This sad, sad year. WILLIAM JEWETT PABODIE. [Born about 1815. A barrister, principally known as author of Calidore, a Legendary Poem, published in 1839]. ON THE DEATH OF A FRIEND. GONE in the flush of youth! Gone ere thy heart had felt earth's withering care Fled like a dream away! But yesterday mid life's auroral bloom- Fond hearts were beating high, Fond eyes were watching for the loved one gone, They watched-not all in vain Thy form once more the wonted threshold passed; But choking sobs, and tears like summer rain, Welcomed thee home at last. Friend of my youth, farewell! To thee, we trust, a happier life is given; EPES SARGENT, [Born in 1816. He began writing for the stage at an early age; his drama of The Bride of Genoa having been acted in 1836, and his most admired tragedy, Velasco, in 1837]. A CALM. Oh for one draught of cooling northern air! Rock the fixed hull, and swell the clinging sail! Sound thy shrill whistle! we will bid thee hail! Though wrapped in all the storm-clouds of the north, Yet from thy home of ice, come forth, O breeze, come forth! FRANCES SARGENT OSGOOD. [Born in 1816, daughter of a merchant named Locke; died some years ago. Towards 1835 she married the painter Mr. Osgood, and the earlier years of their wedded life were passed in England. Mrs. Osgood published various miscellaneous writings and compilations, frequently using the pseudonym of "Florence"]. THE SOUL'S LAMENT FOR HOME. As plains the homesick ocean-shell So asks my homesick soul below For something loved, yet undefined; So mourns to mingle with the flow Of music from the Eternal Mind; Save from thy voice, Celestial Love! BIANCA. A WHISPER Woke the air, A soft light tone, and low, Yet barbed with shame and woe. h! might it only perish there, Nor farther go! But no! a quick and eager ear Caught up the little, meaning soundAnother voice has breathed it clearAnd so it wandered round From ear to lip, from lip to ear, Until it reached a gentle heart That throbbed from all the world apart, It was the only heart it found- Low as it seemed to other ears, Was killed but by the gun's report And thus her heart, unused to shame, (For who the maid that knew But owned the delicate flower-like grace Her light and happy heart, that beat ANNE CHARLOTTE LYNCH. [Miss Lynch, born towards 1816, is the daughter of one of the "United Irishmen," who, having joined the Rebellion of 1798, was banished for life after four years' imprisonment. She is a miscellaneous writer in prose as well as verse]. TO THE SAVIOUR. OH thou who once on earth beneath the weight The incarnation of profoundest love; Who on the Cross that love didst consummate- |