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Place one white rose upon that whiter brow,— 
The rosemary, within that stone-cold hand ; 
And on that breast, so chill and moveless now, 
Scatter some wild flowers of her native land; 
Yea, by Affection be the loveliest given, 
To her now blooming in her native Heaven. 
Silence in that death-chamber !—the deep hush 
Of sentient minds above what once was Life. 
Crushed are all earthly hopes, which used to rush 
With dark despair, in eager, anxious strife. 
Life’s dream is over, the belov’dis clay ; 
Godward the unchained soul hath pass’d away. 
Gone is the lov’d, the lovely ! Sad the grief 
For her who ne’er before gave cause for tears ; 
Her earthly pilgrimage hath been but brief— 
God claimed his owninher Youth’s gentle years, 
Wafting her spirit to yon starry skies, 
Ere Care could vex, or Sorrow dim her eyes. 
THE VIOLET’S SPRING SONG. 
Unnper the hedge all safe and warm, 
Sheltered from boisterous wind and storm, 
We violets lie; 
With each small eye 
Closely shut while the cold goes by 
