"Dora again, in her wild forest home, Where, in wavy masses fondly flowing Droops the graceful mountain vine, And the yellow sunbeams, glowing Cross the shadows line on line; Where the zephyrs, softly sighing, Woo the gently pearling rills; Where the feathered songsters, vieing, Each a different measure trills; Where the echoes, now replying, Die amid the distant hills; Where the skies are ever changing; Where the slanting moonbeams quiver On the noisy mountain streams: Where the placid flowing river Like a thread of silver gleams. Oh, my heart is ever yearning For the sweet, remembered ones, Where magic roses blossom In the evening golden light, And tender, enchanting songs Float on the balmy breeze at night." THE END. [Transcriber's Note: The original edition of this book did not contain a Table of Contents. A Table of Contents has been created for this electronic edition.]