POETRY Y /.

a. rs .,aufe3 ,W Its words .N Ef
/ Are few, but deep and solemn, and they break


Fresh from the fount OF feeling. Perciual.
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For the Colombian Fountain.


LINES.
There's something in the twilight hour
That oil The sternesl heart willimove; IL
A witching spell-a magic power
To bring back scenes we dearly love.
Al such an hour, my heart beats high
With thoughts OF home, with prayers devout
While heartfelt pleasure. from the eye, sl@
Pours free the tide OF feeling out.
My boyish sports are called 10 lew,
And fancy paints each scene Of yore
In forms SO bright, and coloring true
live each joyous moment Ger.
Yes, early home, love the still, Is nsg
Tho time has cast her shadow o'er thee;
For memory claims her wayward will,
And brings thy happy scenes before me.
But now, alas, thy joys are gone,
And naught remains but care and pain,
Still on the loss, can but mourn,
And wish to live them o'er again.


F. B.