Greets the violet solemnly.

Therefore, once, and yet again,
Strew them o'er her bed of pain;
From her chamber take the gloom,
With a light and flush of bloom:
So should one depart, who goes
Where no Death can touch the Rose!


_New Monthly Magazine._

* * * * *


STANZAS.


Oh! ask me not to sing to-night,

Oh! ask me not to sing to-night
Dejection chills my feeble powers,
I own thy halls of glittering light
Are festive as in former hours.
But when I last amid them moved,
I sung for friends beloved and dear,
Their smiles inspired, their lips approved,
Now all is changed--they are not here.

I gaze around--I view a throng,