166 flora’s dial. 
EDmmber 13. 
CITRON. — Estrangement. 
We meet in crowds ! ah, how unlike the meeting 
Our bosoms knew, in those sweet, by -gone hours, 
■When Time’s swift pinions seemed on sunbeams 
fleeting, 
And I outh’s light footsteps trod alone on flowers ! 
We meet in crowds ! as strangers, cold and sadly, 
Who ne’er had met, nor e’er may meet again ; 
We part ! — and in each bosom, deeply, — madly, 
Rankles the wound that must for aye remain ! 
Mrs. C. B. Wilson. 
SDmmba 15-. 
COXCOMB. — Singularity. 
When first you look upon her face, 
You little note beside 
The timidness, that still betrays 
The beauties it would hide ; 
But, one by one, they look from out 
Her blushes and her eyes, — 
And still, the last the loveliest, 
Like stars from twilight skies. Anon. 
