194 Eoofeing ?3acfe. 



To run on farther with the merry throng 

 We'd led till then at pace too good to last ; 



Find that our voice jars in their joyous song, 

 And that our noonday is already past. 



*' Redeem the wasted hours," the Preacher cries ; 



*' Blot out their mem'ry," louder yells Despair; 

 And man, who sought not life, crawls on and dies, 



Crush'd down as camel by the last (grey) hair. 



LOOKING BACK. 



OOKING back ! yes, it is more than sad 

 looking back through the misty past, 

 Dim with the fogsof folly,and worse — bright 

 with pleasures too sweet to last ; 

 Here resolutions good were made — you may note 



the spot by the sunny ray, 

 Well-nigh eclips'd by the darker blot, which denotes 

 how soon they, alas ! gave way. 



Here on Life's map, and there, we trace a moisten'd 



spot from a heart-felt tear ; 

 Sacred tokens, you each efface some lov'd one's name 



held, alas ! so dear ; 



