Forget Me Dot.

WO children where the waters flow See azure blossoms twinkling low, And smile with love the name to know,

"Forget-me-not."

A youth and maiden pass that way,
While gaily rings Love's roundelay;
Again they pluck, and whisper they,

"Forget me not!”

In circles shivers the pale light
Upon the moaning river's flight:

A woman's cry rings through the night,

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FORGET ME NOT.

Time past: none wept, none sought, none knew,
Till his chance footstep brought to view

A wave-kissed skull, whence crept a blue

he Suicide's Burial.

HE time was tending to the hour
Which is the noon of night,

And on the shadow of the tower
The moon shone silver-white;

About the shadow of a grave

Was grouped a slender band (Where friend or foe, the rich or slave, Might mingle hand-in-hand):

They brought the suicide's remains
To render them to dust;
And blessed are the tender pains

Which do not shun that trust.

VOL. VI.

L 2

128

THE SUICIDE'S BURIAL.

The stricken wife, the orphaned child,

Had come to do their last;

No sound was there of weeping wild,
But silence cold and vast.

No holy man of God was there
To read the funeral rite;
They only saw the Cross of Care
Emblazoned on the night.

Mechanic duties, dark and dull,
Were all they seemed to pay,
And yet the sight was beautiful,
And glorified were they.

Rapt in the ministry of love,
They heard no warning hour;
Fixed as the melancholy dove,

They felt no passing shower.

The wronging hand that wrought the deed,
The frame that sheathed the blow,

In undivided death and meed

They laid them soft and low.

THE SUICIDE'S BURIAL.

The magic moonbeams gathered round

And slipped into their soul :

The moonbeams chained them to the ground

With saddest, sweet control.

The sullen rattle of the clod
Had never died away;

They could not see the hand of God,
And knew not how to pray.

At last the music of the boy
Broke their compelling chain,
And tears-they were the tears of joy
Fell mingled with the rain :

"By that all-conquering faith we know,
Which strong assurance gives,

The hand alone has wreaked the blow,
And still our brother lives."

Then all about the silent grave

Knelt in immortal prayer,

Which blossomed into praise that gave
Its crowning requiem there.

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