170 THE CHRONICLES OF A GARDEN. 



Save memories which our hearts entwine, 

 Has all for ever pass'd away ; 



Like the dear home once thine and mine- 

 The home now silent as the clay ? 



Or is there something yet to come, 

 From all our silence yet concealed. 



About the patient creatures dumb, 

 A secret yet to be revealed ? 



— A happy secret still behind, 



Yet for the mute creation stored ; 

 Which suffers, though it never sinn'd, 

 And loves and toils without reward ? 



The Three Wakinys 



?Wi^{ 



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BALLANTYNE AND OOMPANY, PRINTERS, EDlKBURtiM. 



