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THE DEWY FLOWER.
Hope of the comfortless ! I was despairing
Till thy sweet solace-beam over me stole ; Till I gazed on its radiance thro' darkness appearing,
And felt thy sure promise inspiring my soul. Now I will lean on this promise when weary,
And seek the support of thy life-giving word: 0, when my pathway grows cheerless and dreary,
I will look for the solace thy pages afford.
THE DEWY FLOWER. " 0 how wet are its leaves!" she said, > As she raised the beautiful flower to my view— 'Twas completely drench'd with the early dew,-And heavily hung down its head.
"I '11 dry its soft leaves," said the child, As she placed it beside the hearth glowing bright; With petals reflecting the warm, rosy light,
A moment it blush'd and it smiled.
Then it shrank from the scorching blaze With a tremour at heart—the life-pulse was gone ; Iri"a moment its beauty and fragrance had flown,—
Little Helen look'd on it amazed.
Alas ! its short glory had fled: That beautiful blossom, which open'd at dawn With its robe of freshness and loveliness on,
Lay wither'd, and faded, and dead.