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250 FOREST MELODIES.
- Bytheirboundingfootstepsthedewsarenotstirr'd, -Their names are forgotten, where once they were heard.
Say not, it is sad or distressing to die!
Did ye feel all the sorrows of age, Did ye know ev'ry burden'd and weary sigh,
"Which comes near the close of our pilgrimage, Ye would think it were better, far better to die, Ere the tempests of age should pass over your sky.;
I seem to myself like a pilgrim lone,
Threading his way through a desert land;
Pausing and weeping o'er friends that have gone, With the objects of life unattain'd:
Though my pathway leadeth where bright faces
They waken no answer in this heart of mine. )
ON RECEIVING A GERANIUM. 'Tis a sweet gift of friendship, Mary,
I'll prize it for thy sake; And often as new leaves unfold,
Shall glowing thoughts awake ! Yea, thoughts of Friendship's sacred flower,
Which blooms so purely bright; Nor withers in some fleeting hour,
Nor fades with Autumn's blight.