We strolled along ’mid blooming flow’rs, Till ’neath a spreading tree, We sat where swift the raptured hours Flew o’er my love and me; And when at last time bade us part, I kissed those lips so sweet, And little dreamed but we should still Oft thus together meet. But us the stars of heav’n depart, When dawn her glory brings, One morn the angels bore her off Upon their snowy wings! Yet, in the golden realms above, I trust some day to see, With endless joy, the one who made This earth a Heaven to me! _TO A FIRE-FLY._ Blithesome insect, gently flying Thro’ the shades of night, As we see thy rays of brightness, May our hopes be bright; And tho’ with life’s cares encompass’d, May our hearts be light. _MY OLD NEW ENGLAND HOME._ When the stars above, in gladness, Twinkle thro’ the evening gloam, With a mingled joy and sadness, Often do my fancies roam Backward to the vanished pleasures Of my old New England home. In that home I see my mother-- Of all earthly friends the best-- At her side my younger brother, With his youthful pleasures blest; And my little brown-eyed sister, Sleeping on her mother’s breast. And within that sacred dwelling Father’s cheerful face I see, And I hear him kindly telling Us to ever loyal be;-- On the battle-field he perished, When they made our country free. When he went away, our mother Safely led our little band, And she taught us of another Loving Father, whose strong hand, Never would forsake his children, If they heeded His command: Taught us, in our youth and beauty, Ne’er to turn our feet aside From the paths of truth and duty, Whatsoever might betide; But to keep the path of wisdom, And obey our Heavenly guide. Back to home and all its pleasures Often do my fancies roam, And to me, the richest treasures Under heaven’s starry dome, Were the blessings of my childhood, In that old New England home. _A LOVER’S LAMENT._ As lillies, arrayed in their loveliness, fade, So faded my fairest--my love: My joys have all fled, for my darling is dead-- O Stella! My dearest, my dove! The loveliest flowers, in this sad world of ours, Are soonest from us to depart-- Are first to decay; and thus faded away The tenderest joy of my heart. My hopes, once so bright, have all taken their flight, For gone is my beautiful dove: I’m weary with grief, and shall ne’er find relief, Till I rest with my darling above. _FACES THAT ARE GONE._ How we long to see the faces That have crossed the silent tide-- Faces marked with care and sorrow, Faces full of joy and pride; Some with furrowed brow and hoary, Some in youth’s lamented bloom;-- One by one from us departed, For the cold and silent tomb.