Now first unveiled, until with pride his bosom swells,
Conscious that all their love is his.

Then will the distant voice be loudly heard to say:
"And G--, too, is a friend of thine!
When silvery locks no more around his temples play,
G-- still will be a friend of thine!"

"E'en yonder"--and now in his eye the crystal tear
Will gleam--"e'en yonder he will love!
Love thee too, when his heart, in yonder spring-like sphere,
Linked on to thine, can rapture prove!"




EPITAPH.

Here lies a man cut off by fate
Too soon for all good men;
For sextons he died late--too late
For those who wield the pen.




QUIRL.

You tell me that you feel surprise
Because Quirl's paper's grown in size;