Thou’rt journeying to thy spirit's home,

Where the skies are ever clear ;

The corn-month's golden hours will come,

But they shall not find thee here.

And we shall miss thy voice, my bird !

Under our whispering pine ;

Music shall midst the leaves be heard,

But not a song like thine.

A breeze that roves o'er stream and hill,

Telling of winter gone, Hath such sweet falls-yet caught we still

A farewell in its tone.

But thou, my bright one! thou shalt be

Where farewell sounds are o'er ;

Thou, in the eyes thou lov'st, shalt see

No fear of parting more.

The mossy grave thy tears have wet,

And the wind's wild moanings by, Thou with thy kindred shalt forget,

Midst flowers-not such as die.

The shadow from thy brow shall melt,

The sorrow from thy strain,
But where thine earthly smile hath dwelt,

Our hearts shall thirst in vain.

Dim will our cabin be, and lone,

When thou, its light, art fled ;
Yet hath thy step the pathway shown

Unto the happy dead.

And we will follow thee, our guide !

And join that shining band; Thou'rt passing from the lake's green side

Go to the better land !"

The song had ceas'd—the listeners caught no breath, That lovely sleep had melted into death.

What deep wounds ever closed witwynt com
The heart's bleed longest, and but inal work
That which disfigures it

ROYAL in splairam We dows us ty
On the plain where u Lukisan 3 ***,
With its rompa puts the kus !
Red as if food in te vurtul.;
And its dear on puni yay be, text miss kuts
A bright stan'a ve tug' s, in to
Till the pillati reura u tro, auns 444,
like torth is to most ம

The song had ceas d—the listeners caught no breath, That lovely sleep had melted into death.