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120 THE GRAVES OF A HOUSEHOLD.

But some were sad and felt no mirth,
But only Music's wrong,

In sounds that sang, Farewell, farewell,
To her you've loved so long.

Farewell, farewell, fair Ines;
That vessel never bore
So fair a lady on its deck,
Nor danced so light before;
Alas for pleasure on the sea,
And sorrow on the shore;

The smile that blest one lover's heart
Has broken many more!

THE GRAVES OF A HOUSEHOLD.

MRS. HEMANS.

THEY grew in beauty side by side,

They filled one home with glee;
Their graves are severed, far and wide,
By mount, and stream, and sea.

The same fond mother bent at night
O'er each fair sleeping brow;
She had each folded flower in sight --
Where are those dreamers now?

THE GRAVES OF A HOUSEHOLD.

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One, midst the forest of the west,

By a dark stream is laid

The Indian knows his place of rest,

Far in the cedar shade.

The sea, the blue lone sea, hath one
He lies where pearls lie deep;
He was the loved of all, yet none
O'er his low bed may weep.

One sleeps where southern vines are drest
Above the noble slain;

He wrapt his colors round his breast
On a blood-red field of Spain.

And one — o'er her the myrtle showers

Its leaves, by soft winds fanned;

She faded midst Italian flowers,
The last of that bright band.

And parted thus they rest, who played
Beneath the same green tree;
Whose voices mingled as they prayed
Around one parent knee.

They that with smiles lit up the hall,
And cheered with song the hearth

Alas! for love, if thou wert all,

And naught beyond, O earth!

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THE BEAUTIFUL.

THE BEAUTIFUL.

BURRINGTON.

WALK with the Beautiful and with the Grand;
Let nothing on the earth thy feet deter;
Sorrow may lead thee weeping by the hand,
But give not all thy bosom thoughts to her:
Walk with the Beautiful.

I hear thee say,

"The Beautiful! What is it?"

O, thou art darkly ignorant! Be sure

'Tis no long, weary road its form to visit;

For thou canst make it smile beside thy door: Then love the Beautiful.

Ay, love it; 'tis a sister that will bless,

And teach thee patience when the heart is lonely; The angels love it, for they wear its dress;

And thou art made a little lower only; -
Then love the Beautiful.

Sigh for it,

clasp it when 'tis in thy way!

Be its idolater, as of a maiden!

Thy parents bent to it, and more than they;

Be thou its worshipper.

Another Eden

Comes with the Beautiful.

Some boast its presence in a Grecian face;
Some, on a favorite warbler of the skies;
But be not foiled; where'er thine eyes might trace,
Seeking the Beautiful, it will arise;

Then seek it every where.

THE RAVEN.

Thy bosom is its mint; the workmen are

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Thy thoughts; and they must coin for thee: believing The Beautiful exists in every star,

Thou mak'st it so, and art thyself deceiving,
If otherwise thy faith.

Thou seest Beauty in the violet's cup;

I'll teach thee miracles! Walk on this heath, And say to the neglected flower, "Look up, And be thou Beautiful!" If thou hast faith, It will obey thy word.

One thing I warn thee; bow no knee to gold;
Less innocent it makes the guileless tongue;
It turns the feelings prematurely old;

And they who keep their best affections young,
Best love the Beautiful.

THE RAVEN.

EDGAR A. POE.

ONCE upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,

Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,

While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there. came a tapping,

As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.

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THE RAVEN.

"Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door;

Only this, and nothing more."

Ah, distinctly I remember, it was in the bleak December,

And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.

Eagerly I wished the morrow; vainly I had sought to borrow

From my books surcease of sorrow, sorrow for the lost Lenore,

For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore,

Nameless here forevermore.

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain

Thrilled me, filled me, with fantastic terrors never felt before;

So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating,

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"'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my cham

ber door,

Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;

This it is, and nothing more.”

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,

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Sir," said I," or madam, truly your forgiveness
I implore;

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