"NOT LOST, BUT GONE BEFORE."

Oh sadly yet with vain regret
The widow'd heart must yearn;
And mothers weep their babes asleep
In the sunlight's vain return.

The brother's heart shall rue to part

From the one through childhood known;

And the orphan's tears lament for years
A friend and father gone.

For death and life, with ceaseless strife,
Beat wild on this world's shore,
And all our calm is in that balm,
"Not lost, but gone before."

Oh! world wherein nor death, nor sin,
Nor weary warfare dwells;
Their blessed home we parted from
With sobs and sad farewells.

Where eyes awake, for whose dear sake
Our own with tears grow dim,

And faint accords of dying words

Are changed for heaven's sweet hymn;

Oh there at last, life's trials past,

We'll meet our loved once more,

Whose feet have trod the path to God

"Not lost, but gone before."

Hon. Mrs. Norton.

THERE'S NAE LUCK ABOUT THE HOUSE

BUT are ye sure the news is true?

And are ye sure he's weel ?

Is this a time to think o' wark?

Ye jades, fling by your wheel !

For there's nae luck about the house,

There's nae luck at a';

There's nae luck about the house,

When our gudeman's awa'.

Is this a time to think o' wark,

When Colin's at the door?

Rax down my cloak-I'll to the quay,

And see him come ashore.

Rise up, and make a clean fireside,

Put on the mickle pot;

Gie little Kate her cotton gown,

And Jock his Sunday coat.

Mak' a' their shoon as black as sloes,

Their stockings white as snaw;

It's a to pleasure our gudeman

He likes to see them braw.

There are twa hens into the crib

Hae fed this month or mair;

Mak' haste and thraw their necks about, That Colin weel may fare.

THERE'S NAE LUCK ABOUT THE HOUSE.

Sae sweet his voice, sae smooth his tongue,

His breath's like cauler air;

His very foot has music in't,

As he comes up the stair.

And will I see his face again?

And will I hear him speak?

I'm downricht dizzy wi' the thought,

In troth I'm like to greet.

There's nae luck about the house,
There's nae luck at a';

There's nae luck about the house,

When our gudeman's awa'.

William Julius Mickle.

THE HAPPY HUSBAND.

OFT, oft methinks, the while with thee
I breathe, as from the heart, thy dear
And dedicated name, I hear

A promise and a mystery,

A pledge of more than passing life,
Yea, in that very name of wife!

A pulse of love, that ne'er can sleep!
A feeling that upbraids the heart
With happiness beyond desert,
That gladness half requests to weep!
Nor bless I not the keener sense
And unalarming turbulence

THE HAPPY HUSBAND.

Of transient joys, that ask no sting
From jealous fears, or coy denying;
But born beneath love's brooding wing,
And into tenderness soon dying,

Wheel out their giddy moment, then
Resign the soul to love again.

A more precipitated vein

Of notes, that eddy in the flow

Of smoothest song, they come, they go, And leave their sweeter under-strain

Its own sweet self-a love of thee

That seems, yet cannot greater be!

S. T. Coleridge.

NONE REMEMBER THEE.

NONE remember thee! thou whose heart

Pour'd love on all around;

Thy name no anguish can impart

"Tis a forgotten sound.

Thy old companions pass me by

With a cold bright smile, and a vacant eye,

And none remember thee

Save me!

None remember thee! thou wert not

Beauteous as some things are ;

My glory beam'd upon thy lot,

My pale and quiet star!