dawn!
Back to your urn, ye phantoms, turn,
And vanish o'er the lawn.

Stern, though in tears, with Fatal shears,
Time scattered all those pearls!
They fell, unstrung, old graves among;
O'er all the snow-wreath curls!

Yet shines that light from lattice bright,
Wide o'er the grass, or snow;
Still all the room its rays illume,
As when, so long ago,

Its arrowy star recalled the car
Then winding round the wood,
And lime-rock gray threw back the ray
Across the rapid flood.

Though cold each form, their _love_, still warm,
From hearth and lattice glows:
Hearts kind and dear yet linger here,
And bid us to repose.

The skies are dark! No moonbeams mark
Or wall, or traveller's way:
O'er rock and wood thick storm-clouds brood,
And doubts our steps delay.

No beacon-light yet cheers the night:
How gloomy grows the hour!
Ah! there it shines, in lance-like lines,
Sharp through the misty shower.

Shine on, fair star, through storms, afar!
Still bless the nightly way!
Always the same, a vestal flame,
Love shall maintain thy ray.

THE FOURTH OF JULY.

It was the anniversary of our Glorious Fourth. The evil genius who
specially presides over the destinies of unoffending college boys put
it into the heads of five of us to celebrate the day by an excursion
by water to Nahant Beach. The morning was delightful,--the cool summer
air just freshening into a steady and favoring breeze, the sun
tempered in his ferocity by an occasional cloud above us, the sea calm
and pleasant--and all that sort of thing, you know--just what you want
on such occasions,--and we set sail from Braman's, resolved to have "a
jolly good time." I can't describe our passage down. It was altogether
too full of fun to be written on one sheet. Suffice it to say, we
laughed, and sang, and joked, and ate, and drank ('t was when we were
young), and so on, all the way, and in fact I felt rather disappointed
at arriving so soon as we did at our destined port. Here new pleasures
awaited us, in the shape of acquaintances unexpected and unexpecting,
rides on the beach, bowling, and loafing in general,--much too rich to
be described here and now. But there is an end to all sport, and ours
came quite too soon. The shadows had begun to lengthen considerably
before we thought of starting on our return, and certain ominous
indications in the heavens above us warned u