




THE BOUQUET. 
Who an unconscious look, a word, a sigh, 
Boasts his unhallowed bosom can defy? 
O, never let him deem his soul was made 
For holy hopes, and joys that never fade; 
For pure delights, that love can only know, 
And all the ties that cheer our hearts below: 
The tender names of husband, brother, friend, 
Ne’er to his breast their blissful sounds shall lend ; 
But cheerless, joyless, shall he live and die, 
Nor claim in life a smile, in death a sigh! 
M.S. J 



















Love’s soft sympathy imparts 
That tender transport of delight 
That beats in undivided hearts. 
CARTWRIGHT. 
BALSAMINE. 
IMPATIENS. 
Impatience. 
WirtH fierce, distracted eye Impatience stands. 
DaRwin. 
Lire of my life—at once my fate decree — 
I wait my death, or more than life, from thee! 

