[The "Evening Post" publishes the following exquisite little poem, with a paragraph stating that it was received with a note, not from its author, to the effect that "it was written as a dirge for a friend—a young, gifted, and highly cultivated…
Full eighteen hundred years or more
I've kept my doors securely tied,
There is no "little angel" strayed.
Nor has been missing all the while.
I did not sleep, as you supposed,
Nor leave the door of Heaven ajar:
Nor has a "little angel"…
Dearest Ellen, I think of thee
When morn's first flush streams on high,
Or when the twilight's crimson flush
Is fading in the western sky.
I'll think of thee in mirth's gay hours,
When song and jest pass fleeting by,
When o'er me memory has one…
'Tis done, and shivering in the gale,The bark unfurls her snowy sail,And whistling o'er the bending mast,Loud sings on high the freshning blast;And must you from this land be gone,In Afric's burning clime to roam?As some lone bird without a mate,Thy…
Ah! dark skinned tribes, though black we be,God, our creator, made us free;To all He life and being gave,But never, never made a slave.His works, all wondrous to behold,Proclaim to us a power untold;He made the sea and formed the wave,But never,…
Spirit of joy! thy altar lies
In youthful hearts, that hope like mine.
And 'tis the light of laughing eyes
That leads us to thy fairy shrine.
There if we find the sigh, the tear,
They are not those to sorrow known,
But breathe so soft, and…
A SOUTH AFRICAN BORDER BALLAD.---
A TRUE STORY. ---BY THOMAS PRINGE,A noble-hearted Scotchman, who resided some time in South Africa.
We met in the midst of the Neutral Ground,'Mong the hills where the buffalo's haunts are found;And we joined in…
O, Slavery! thou art a bitter draught,
And twice accursed is thy poisoned bowl.
Which taints with leprosy the white man's soul,
Not less than his by whom its dregs are quaffed. The slave sinks down, o'ercome by cruel craft,
Like beast of burden…
What though the homespun suit he wears—
Best suit to the sons of toil—
What though no coarser food he fares,
And tends the loom, or tills the soil;
What though no gold-leaf gilds the tongue,
Devoted to congenial chat—
If Right prevails, and not…
"This page, if thou wilt be a pater (parent-father) that reads it, thou wilt apardone me; if nocht, suspend thy censure till thou be a father, as said the grave Lacemaemonian Agesilaus." -Autobiography of James Melville. One time—my soul was pierced…
