She listen'd with joy to the summons they read,

Her spirit assented to what they said,

In the silence of death she bow'd her head.

A moment had pass'd, and her spirit had striven To make its escape, and the heart had riven, Then ascended on angels' wings to Heaven.

But they watch'd her still with anxious eye,
Nothing was heard save the stifled sigh;
They knew not her spirit was wafted on high.

The struggle was over,-yet not a breath,
Or sob, or sigh, or spirit wraith

Had given a sign of the presence of death.

Her lips were closed, but a placid smile
Did even a mother's eye beguile,

To think she was sleeping all the while.

But nothing that long, long sleep shall break,
Till the trump of God the dead shall wake,

And the saints their bodies from death shall take.

SYMBOLS OF THE HEART.

HE heart is a harp, oft wet with tears,

As it tells the tale of other

years.

The heart is a lake, where, in life's weather,

Joy and sorrow strive together.

The heart is a drum, for ever beating

Life's advancing or retreating.

The heart is a bell, for ever swinging,
In grief, or gladness, ever ringing.

The heart is a home, in which dwells sadness,
Hope, and fear, and love, and madness.

The heart is a field, in which we sow

Seeds of thought, which ever grow.

Oh, the heart is a harp, and a lake, and a bell, And a field in which thoughts grow;

But all its pictures, and symbols, and types, No human mind doth know.

D

FORMS OF BEAUTY.

E have slept, as the forms of beauty sleep,
In every leaf and flower,

In the ample folds of the peaceful clouds,

In evening's silent hour.

We have slept, as the forms of beauty sleep,
In the clustering leaves of the vine,
In the foliage green of the forest deep,

In colour, and curvèd line.

We have slept, as the forms of beauty sleep,

'Midst waving fields of corn,

We have trembled, and blush'd in the tiny buds,

As we've felt the breath of morn.

We have slept, as the forms of beauty sleep,

In sea, and lake, and rill,

In the wild, wild glen, in the valley deep,

And on the sloping hill.

We have slept, as the forms of beauty sleep,
In stainless beds of snow;

And again we have pass'd into other forms
As we've felt the sun's warm glow.

We have slept, as the forms of beauty sleep,

In robes of frost array'd,

And have bathed ourselves in the silvery spray Of the gracefully-arch'd cascade.

We have slept, as the forms of beauty sleep,

In spars of spangled sheen,

And in the deep, deep mines of earth,

E'en there may we be seen.

We have gather'd ourselves to the far, far west,

To await the setting sun;

With him we have laid us down to rest,

When his daily work was done.

We have slept, as the forms of beauty sleep,
On the brow of each orb so bright,
In delicate tints, and fringes of gold
On the mantle of morning's light.

And we have been where nought is seen

Bu tboundless sea and sky;

Where nought is heard but the constant boom
Of the ocean billows high.

We have woven our shroud of the tempest cloud,
And have danced with laughing glee,
'Midst lightning's flames and thunders loud,
Where dwells deep mystery.

We have robed our form, 'midst the raging storm, With mantles of dazzling light,

We have deck'd our brow with sparkling gems, And our scarf is the rainbow bright.

In the opening bud of the fragrant rose,
We have slept the live-long night,

And wept with the dew, whose crystal tears
Have shone in the morning light.

We sleep, as the forms of beauty sleep,
In all that God hath made;

And in every work of His mighty hand

Is our varying form display'd.