froa THE RAsxxn.
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CASxOxET. A sylvan fern have seen. LovsIier thaa poets dream,

 or some enchaaled shore It was the form of Mary Moore. A mefiow voice have heard. Like the notes of happy bifd,

 That once sung scar my door-- It was the vosee of Mary Moore. oa fairy brow I've gazsd. Miider thAa sAe giow- wezm's biaxe.

 That lights the Inarsky noor- It was on the brow of Mary Moore. From gaselie eyes have resd. That Lcse's wings are ever spseaA.

 Ever oa flight sc soar It was from fhs eye of May Moes.. os Eose-tisg'a lips I've traced. < sss:zs dew the bee ne'er tass'd,

 But ofasn sought befase-- It was en the lip ef Mary Moeee.