...of the bladed corn ; We turn the pages that they read, Their written words we linger o'er ; But in the sun they cast no shade. No voice is heard, no...for him who never sees The stars shine through his cyprc=s trees ! Who, hopeless, lays his dead away, Nor looks to see the breaking day Across the mournful...

...such short distance from each other, snatched away from me, will again be restored to me; for — " Love will dream, and Faith will trust, ( Since He who knows our need is just), That some how, some-where, meet we must." This, reader, is the only cheering thought left to me as I painfully...

...means unto an end — that end, Beginning, mean, and end to all things — God " FESTOS. — Bailey "Alas for him who never sees The stars shine through his cypress-trees ! Who, helpless lays his dead away, Nor looks to see the breaking day Across the irtnuruful marbles play !...

...beneath their orchard-trees, We hear, like them, the hum of bees And rustle of the bladed corn ; But in the sun they cast no shade, No voice is heard, no sign is made, No step is on the conscious floor ! " All this comes home to the heart of the lonely girl ; but there comes, too, the "hours of faith,"...

...some plaintive music. I used to regard him with a tender pity, as being unhappy. I used to sigh— '' Alas for him who never sees The stars shine through his cypress-trees ! " But our further acquaintance has convinced me that he has a relish for melancholy. I watched him...

...beneath their orchard-trees, We hear, like them, the hum of bees And rustle of the bladed corn ; But in the sun they cast no shade, No voice is heard, no sign is made, No step is on the conscious floor I " All this comes home to the heart of the lonely girl ; but there comes, too, the " hours of faith,"...

...hladed corn : We torn the pages thai they read, Their written words we linger o'er, Bnt in the snn they cast no shade, No voice is heard, no sign is made. No step is nn the conscions floor ! Vet Love will dream, and Faith will trnst, (Since He who knows oor need is...

...rustle of the bladed corn; We turn the pages that they read, Their written words we linger o'er, But in the sun they cast no shade, No voice is heard, no...need is just), That somehow, somewhere, meet we must. ***** We sped the time with stories old, Wrought puzzles out, and riddles told, Or stammered from our...

...rustle of the bladed corn; We turn the pages that they read, Their written words we linger o'er, But in the sun they cast no shade, No voice is heard, no...our need is just). That somehow, somewhere, meet we murfk ***** We sped the time with stories old, Wrought puzzles out, and riddles told, Or stammered...

...faces smile no more. We tread the paths their feet have worn, Their written words we lmger o'er, But in the sun they cast no shade. No voice is heard, no...conscious floor ! Yet Love will dream, and Faith will We sit beneath their orchard-trees, We hear, like them, the hum of bees And rustle of the bladed corn...