Gone in her Beauty, 185 The Nun, 187 Trees for the Pilgrim's Wreath, 193 The Mushroom's Soliloquy, 194 The Spirit and the Mountain, 195 The Fall of the Statue, 197 The Bird's Maternal Care, 201 Song, 205 The White Moth, 207 Edward and Charles, 209 Music of the Crickets, 213 Childhood's Dream, 216 The Fruit Tree Blossom, 218 The Plymouth Apple declined, 220 The half Apple, 222 The Horticulturist's Table-Hymn, 224 The Whip-poor-will, 227 The Autumnal Rose-bud, 230 To L. A. E. on her Wedding-day, 231 To Mrs. H. F. L. 233 Music, 235 POEMS. BLOWING BUBBLES. Half our sorrows, half our troubles, Making head and heart to ache, Are the fruit of blowing bubbles, Bright to view, but quick to break. All have played the child imbecile, Breathing hard to swell the sides Of a shining, fluid vessel, Frailer than the air it rides. From the infant's cradle rising, All the bubble mania show, Oft our richest wealth comprising In the bubbles that we blow. Brilliant, buoyant, upward going, Pleased, we mark them in their flight, Every hue of iris showing, As they glance along the light. Little castles, high and airy, With their crystal walls so thin, Each presents the wicked fairy, _Vanity_, enthroned within! But when two have struck together, What of either do we find? Not so much as one gay feather Flying Hope has left behind! Still the world are busy, blowing, Every one, some empty ball; So the seeds of mischief sowing, Where, to burst, the bubbles fall. Nor for self alone to gather, Is our evil harvest found; Oft, with pipe and cup, we rather Step upon our neighbor's ground. Thus, amusing one another, While the glistening playthings rise, We may doom a friend or brother To a life of care and sighs.