And nephews, are waiting to greet thee once more.

Our Susan, the baby that clung to thy knee,
And prattled around thee in infantine glee,
Has grown up, she's married and two blooming boys
Have stirred in her bosom a fountain of joys.

You start and exclaim, can the story be true!
I fear that you'll stay till she's _grandmother_, too.
You've staid for our infants to grow up and wed,
Our young men are old, our old ones are dead.

Yes, white hairs are clustering round many a crown,
Which wore, when you left them, rich tresses of brown.
One dear faithful sister has faded-and died,
Don't stay till the others both lie by her side.

At night I behold thee, I laugh and I weep,
Alas! I awake, 'tis the vision of sleep;
Disheartened with pleading, and pleading in vain,
Perhaps I may never entreat you again.




A SISTER'S DEPARTURE.

I saw the tear trembling in sister's blue eye,
In bright smiles she vailed it, full well I knew why.
That moment stern duty had called us to part,