AST fall the leaves : this never says 
To that, “ Alas ! how brief our days ! " 
[ have alike enjoyed the sun, 
And each repeats, “So much is won: 
Where we are falling, millions more 
Have dropt, nor weep that life is o’er.” 
W. L. Landor. , 
Yellow, yellow leaves, 
All grown pale with' sighing J— 
For the sweet days dead, 
For the sad day's dying. 
Yellow, yellow leaves, 
How the parting grieves ! 
Yellow, yeilqw leaves, 
Falling, falling, falling ! 
Death is best, when hope 
There is no recalling; 
Yet O, yellow leaves, 
How the parting grieves ! 
Isa Craig Knox. 
