THE BOUQUET. 

HEATH. 
Erica. 
Solitude is sometimes best society. 
Ox! pleasant is it for the heart 
To gather up itself apart; 
To think its own thoughts, and to be 
Free — as none ever yet were free, 
When, prisoners to their gilded thrall, 
Vain crowd meets crowd in lighted hall; 
With frozen feeling’s tutored eye, 
And smile which is itself a lie. 
L. E. Lanvon. 
® 
Tus cell has taught me many a hidden thing; 
Thave become acquainted with my soul 
Through midnight silence, and through lonely 
days 
Silent as midnight. I have found therein 
A well of waters, undisturbed and deep, 
Of sustenance, refreshment, and repose. 
WoRDs WORTH. 
AwnD impulses of deeper thought 
Have come to me in solitude. 
W oRDSWORTH. 


