{"newspaper_name": "The Columbian fountain.", "edition": "01", "page": "p1", "byline": ""}
{"character_count": 974, "word_count": 177, "ccnet_language_score": [0.9509000182151794], "ccnet_perplexity": [1626.0], "fasttext_language": ["en"]}
by BUZZ.
A simple floweres brightly glowing,
A gentle riv'let near it flowing
One day we see as the fields we tread;
Next day the stream is dried, the flower dead.
The bed of the brook soon is missing,
And the mornings dew sweetly kissing
Fresh verdure that spnngeth in gladness,
Yet yielding to us naught but sadness.
For the lovely flower and ripping brook,
Wore simple, gay, and happy look,
We're 10th TO loose the familiar scene,
Though the fields still look as bright and green.
Twas thus we gazed on our tender child,
While as blossom of spring she smiled
Making glad our hearts with her simple play,
And seeming more lovely every day.
God spake, and called her from earth away,
To bloom in the glow Of endless day;
And like the dried brook whose loss we mourn, !,
Hopes flow too was checked, joys stream


gone.
Yet as the>verdure that quickly grew,
Bedecked with the mornings pearly dew,
Joy springs anew in our hearts to know
She lives in heaven, though lost below.