Let clouds obscure, or darkness veil,
Her fond idolatry is fled;

Her sighs no more their sweets exhale,-
The loving eye is cold and dead.

Canst thou not trace a moral here,
False flatterer of the prosperous hour?
Let but an adverse cloud appear,
And thou art faithless as the flower!

THE VINE.

THE grateful juice of the vine has been given to cheer the heart of man; and though, alas! it is too often used as the excitement to unseemly revelry, where men degrade themselves to the condition of the brutes, over which they were created lords, we confess we like to see

Depending vines the shelving caverns screen,
With purple clusters blushing through the green.

BUT oh! let vines luxuriant roll

Their blushing tendrils round the bowl.

POPE.

ANACREON.

THE WHITE DAISY.

In the by-gone days of chivalry, when a lady wished to intimate to her lover that she was undecided whether she would accept his offer or not, she decorated her head with a frontlet of white daisies, which was understood to say, "I will think of it.”

An unknown poet has sung the daisy's offering in verses so agreeable to our ears that we must even let our readers share the pleasure.

Think of the flowers cull'd for thee,

In vest of silvery white,

When other flowers perchance you see,
Not fairer, but more bright.

Sweet roses and carnations gay,
Have but a summer's reign;

I mingle with the buds of May,
Join drear December's train.

A simple unassuming flower,

'Mid showers and storms I bloom;

I'll decorate thy lady's bower,

And blossom on thy tomb.

COLUMBIA

ILLUSTRATION OF THE PLATE.

Colored Geranium.

Console yourself, we shall meet again.

We meet again

there is no power

To blot the joy of this glad hour;
But oft as on her welcome wings,

The hush of happy e'entide brings
The mellow notes that tune the brake,
The glow that smooths the burnished lake -
Will memory bring - oh! not in vain

This sweet farewell

we meet again!

We meet again— those locks that flow
O'er the broad dreamy brow below-
The glory of that chastened eye-

Those love-wreathed lips this heartfelt sigh-
The tokens of this hour of bliss

Our melting hearts-this sacred kiss

Swear for me that I will not stain

This pure farewell

we meet again.

GEORGE LUNt.

19*