The year, whose hopes were high and strong, Has now no hopes to wake; Yet one hour more of jest and song For his familiar sake. Oh stay, oh stay, One mirthful hour, and then away. The kindly year, his liberal hands Have lavished all his store. And shall we turn from where he stands, Because he gives no more? Oh stay, oh stay, One grateful hour, and then away. Days brightly came and calmly went, While yet he was our guest; How cheerfully the week was spent! How sweet the seventh day's rest! Oh stay, oh stay, One golden hour, and then away. Dear friends were with us, some who sleep Beneath the coffin-lid: What pleasant memories we keep Of all they said and did! Oh stay, oh stay, One tender hour, and then away. Even while we sing, he smiles his last, And leaves our sphere behind. The good old year is with the past; Oh be the new as kind! Oh stay, oh stay, One parting strain, and then away. THE WIND AND STREAM. A brook came stealing from the ground; You scarcely saw its silvery gleam Among the herbs that hung around The borders of the winding stream, The pretty stream, the placid stream, The softly-gliding, bashful stream. A breeze came wandering from the sky, Light as the whispers of a dream; He put the o'erhanging grasses by, And softly stooped to kiss the stream, The pretty stream, the flattered stream, The shy, yet unreluctant stream. The water, as the wind passed o'er, Shot upward many a glancing beam, Dimpled and quivered more and more, And tripped along, a livelier stream, The flattered stream, the simpering stream, The fond, delighted, silly stream. Away the airy wanderer flew To where the fields with blossoms teem, To sparkling springs and rivers blue, And left alone that little stream, The flattered stream, the cheated stream, The sad, forsaken, lonely stream. That careless wind came never back; He wanders yet the fields, I deem, But, on its melancholy track, Complaining went that little stream, The cheated stream, the hopeless stream, The ever-murmuring, mourning stream. THE LOST BIRD. FROM THE SPANISH OF CAROLINA CORONADO DE PERRY. My bird has flown away, Far out of sight has flown, I know not where. Look in your lawn, I pray, Ye maidens, kind and fair, And see if my beloved bird be there. His eyes are full of light; The eagle of the rock has such an eye; And plumes, exceeding bright, Round his smooth temples lie, And sweet his voice and tender as a sigh. Look where the grass is gay With summer blossoms, haply there he cowers; And search, from spray to spray, The leafy laurel-bowers, For well he loves the laurels and the flowers.