205 
And see, 
As yet unclothed, the Hazel tree 
Prepares his early tufts to lend 
The coppice first-fruits; and depend 
In russet drops, whose clustered rows, 
Still closed in part, in part disclose, 
Yet fenced beneath their scaly shed, 
The pendent anther’s yellow head. 
* Louisa A. Twamley. 
I trust the frown thy features wear, 
Ere long into a smile will turn; 
I would not that a face as fair 
As thine, beloved, should look so stern. 
The chain of ice that winter binds, 
Holds not for aye the sparkling rill; 
It melts away when summer shines, 
And leaves the waters sparkling still: 
Thus let thy cheek resume the smile 
That shed such sunny light before; 
An d though I left thee for a while, 
I’ll vow to leave thee, love, no more. 
Wm. Leggett. 
Come, while the morning of thy life is glowing, 
Ere the dim phantoms thou art chasing die— 
Ere the gay spell, which earth is round thee throwing, 
Fades like the crimson from a sunset sky. 
Life is'but shadows, save a promise given, 
Which lights up sorrow with a fadeless ray. 
Oh, touch the sceptre!—with a hope in heaven, 
Come, turn thy spirit from the world away. 
