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84 SONGS FROM THE ST. LAWRENCE.
Those who, like yonder leaves, grew bright, And, glowing with unnatural light,
Pass'd on the winds of death— 0, autumn leaves! how bright ye are, All trembling in the lonely air,
Floating on every breath!
The forest trees are lonely now, The foliage drops from ev'ry bough,
But Spring shall all restore; And the sweet flowers, that with'ring lie, Shall wake with the first zephyr's sigh,
When Winter's reign is o'er.
And, 0 ! the dead—the precious dead— Who slumber in their dreamless bed,
Shall they not be restored ? If flowers and leaves come forth with Spring 0, let us trust death's conquering King,
And rest upon his word!
THE NEW YEAR.
Welcome, New Year! thou hast a gloomy brow, And yet methinks there's gladness in thine eye:
Come take thy station by our pathway now, Numb'ring our moments as they hurry by.