i O think of thee! it was thy fond request 
When yesterweek we parted. Ah ! how well 
I heed thy bidding, only Love may tell - J 
Beneath his roses. As, for welcome rest, t 
The bird, wing weary, seeks her downy nest, 
So, oft, dear heart! from toil and care 1 flee, 
And, nestling in my happy thought of thee, . 
With sweet repose my weary soul is blest. 
To think of thee—who evermore art near 
My conscious spirit, like the halo spread 
In altar-pictures round some stately head, 
As 'twere of heaven the golden atmosphere— : 
What can I else, until in death I sink, 
And, thinking of my darling, cease to think? - 
J. G. Saxe. 
Jf^ISH Jvy— pLINGING yA FFECTION. 
THINK of thee! my thoughts do twine and bud j 
About thee, as wild vines, about a tree, 
Put out broad leaves, and soon there’s nought to see 
Except the straggling green which hides the wood. 
E. B. Browning. 
34 
