BURIAL OF A GERMAN EMIGRANT'S CHILD AT SEA.

No flowers to lay upon his little breast,

No passing-bell to call his spirit home,

But gliding gently to his place of rest,

Parting, 'mid tears, at eve, the ocean foam.

No turf was round him,

but the lifting surge

Entombed those lids that closed so calm and slow,

While solemn winds, like a cathedral dirge,
Sighed o'er his form a requiem sad and low.

Ah, who shall tell the maddening grief of love
That swept her heart-strings in that hour of woe?-

Weep, childless mother, but O, look above.

For aid that only Heaven can now bestow.

Gaze, blue-eyed mourner, on that silken hair,
Weep, but remember that thy God will stand
Beside thee here in all this wild despair,

As on the green mounds of thy Fatherland.

SONG

OVER THE CRADLE OF TWO INFANT SISTERS, SLEEPING.

SWEET be their rest! no ghastly things

To scare their dreams, assemble here ; But safe beneath good angels' wings

May each repose from year to year.

Cheerful, like some long summer-day,
May all their waking moments flow,
Happier, as run life's sands away,

Unstained by sin, untouched by woe.

SONG.

As now they sleep, serene and pure,

Their little arms entwined in love, So may they live, obey, endure,

And shine with yon bright host above.

5

65

M. W. B.

THEY tell me thou art laid to rest,

Companion of my happiest years!

That thou hast joined the loved and blest,
Whose early graves are wet with tears,
That I shall never hear again

The voice that charmed my boyhood's ear,

Nor meet among the haunts of men

Thy honest grasp of love sincere.

Friend of my youth! my buried friend!
Thy step was gayest in the ring,-

My thoughts far back through childhood wend,
And can I now thy requiem sing?