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KIDD'S OWN JOURNAL. 



ORIGINAL POETRY. 



THE BREAM. 



BY HELEN HETHERINGTON. 



I slept, I dreamt, I woke ; I slept again, and dreamt. 



I slept, and dreamt a dream — e'en such a 

 dream 



As brings us happiness in waking hours. 

 Methought I wander'd far: a gentle beam 



Of setting sun gilded the lofty tow'rs ; 

 Danc'd on the water with the silv'iy spray, 

 Where Fairies gambol midnight hours away. 



My path led through a grove of orange trees, 

 Where all was fair and beautifully bright ; 



The richest odors loaded every breeze, 

 Filling the heart with infinite delight. 



Sweet sounds of distant music cheer'd the vale, 



And Philomel pour'd forth her plaintive tale. 



Onward I roamed; entranc'd. And now, the 

 moon 



Shone bright in all her glory; sweetest flowers, 

 Array'd in beauty, seem'd to claim the boon 



Of being lov'd. From one of Nature's bowers 

 A lovely figure rose, and welcomed me 

 With gentle smiles and sweet simplicity : 



A simple wreath of roses grac'd her brow; 



Her voice was sweet; her countenance benign: 

 She leaning on an anchor, told me how 



I might be happy — pray'd me to resign 

 My doubts and fears to her. She would defend 

 My cause; and be my dearest, fondest friend. 



She led me to a spot, where I could see 



The joys I thought neglected, wither' d — dead. 

 Bless'd with her smiles, they bloom'd trium- 

 phantly! 

 She smil'd at my surprise, and sweetly said — 

 "Brighter than these are thine!" and as she 



spoke, 

 I clasp'd her to my heart — and then awoke. 



Again I slept — again I dreamt that dream, 

 And heard again that gentle, soothing voice ! 



Again the sunbeam floated on the stream, 

 And distant music made my heai-t rejoice ! 



Then I awoke, with thoughts of Happiness, 



With Joy to cheer, and gentle Hope to bless. 



Ever the fond remembrance of that dream 

 Pictures the future with a brighter hue, 

 Cheering the path of life with many a gleam 

 Of Faith — that such bright visions may prove 

 " true;" 

 That Hope may comfort when misfortune lowers, 

 And Love may bless me in my happier 

 hours ! 



Forgiveness. — Suffer not your thoughts to 

 dwell on the injuries you have received, or the 

 provoking words that have been spoken to you. 

 Not only learn the art of neglecting injuries at 

 the time you receive them, but let them grow less 

 and less every moment — till they die out of your 

 mind. 



SELECT POETRY. 

 TO AN ABSENT GIRL 



How fair imagination paints thee, girl ! 

 And yet not fairer than thou art ; for thou 

 Art fair! — but still the picturings of the mind 

 Portray thee, absent, in ten thousand lights, 

 And each of thine own loveliness! — thine eye, 

 That I have gazed on till methought thy soul 

 Held converse with me in mute eloquence, 

 (Soul eloquence that only love can teachj, 

 Now speaks not to the sense : but still it speaks 

 As erst it did; 'tis but more richly dyed, 

 More deeply still of Heaven; more lustrous far 

 With bright intelligence ; still beaming more 

 With fond affection ; not the soft gazelle, 

 With its own liquid look of spirit-love, 

 The eagle when ho views unblenehed the sun, 

 The fabled thing that holds its victim bound 

 But by the magic of its gaze, can paint 

 Imagination's semblance of thine eye, 

 Thine all expressive, soul-snbduing eye : — 

 Then fancy draws thy smile, irradiate, bright, 

 Beaming as that of Eve, when taught of Heaven 

 It called forth man's first passionate look of love, 

 Thy voice I hear, all harmony, as if 

 'Twere Zephyr's lutes attuned by angel lips : — 

 And thy fair form is present, present e'er, 

 In its own beauty, when I wake or sleep ; 

 By night, by day, in reveries, in dreams, 

 Imagination still is picturing thee 

 All peerless — not more peerless than thou art! 

 Think' st thou as oft op me? 



THE PEESENT AGE. 



This is not an age of principles. Men have 

 keen and microscopic eyes to see a point here, 

 and a point there ; but the eagle-glance which 

 sweeps over a whole, and takes it in at once — this 

 is sadly lacking. They make capital use of their 

 finger and thumb, pick up a pin cleverly, can 

 take a pinch of snuff with an air ; but it is not 

 common to see a man who can manage a handful 

 of anything. After all, few truisms are truer 

 than the paradox of Aristotle — that to mankind 

 in general " the parts are greater than the 

 whole." Until we try to take in the particulars 

 one after another, we do not discover how much 

 is contained in the universal. 



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