ir trees and flowers.
A happy life, and curly-headed boys
Were round their steps, their walks, their cottage door,
Filling the air with laughter, silvery sweet.
Gay spring, bright summer, autumn, winter passed,
And found and left them happy, So time flew,
Till both were old, their hearts yet light and gay.
Then, they slept sweetly, side by side, near by
A favorite stream they oft had gazed upon,
Meek christians said they hoped that love so rare
Had full fruition found, in brighter worlds.
It is a happy story, and my eyes,
Have poured their pearl upon these pages here,
That tell so dear a tale. Oh! God be praised,
If such a fate befall my love and me.
I will go seek Odora, and return
To talk with her amid this fragrant bower,
Of what a book has charmed my sighing soul.
I found it here. Perchance she read it first.
How that one thought which doth fill up the mind,
Will color outward objects, circumstance,
And accident, with tincture of itself.

_He goes--then Odora and he re-enter the garden._

LOVER SPEAKS.--I here have found, Odora, love, this book,
Which tells a strange, sweet tale of happy love,
How two young beings found a heaven on earth,
Cans't tell me, whence it came, if fact or dream?

ODORA SPEAKS.--It is a happy story. In my father's room
Of precious volumes late I fell on this;
And read it in this garden; sweet romance,
It brought the love-beats to my heart, drops to mine eyes.

SCENE IV.--ODORA AND LOVER IN A FIELD UNDER A
PERFECT RAINBOW. (LOVER SPEAKS.)

Above this field that shines an Eden, lo!
That wondrous arch of many married hues:
A gorgeous belt, round Nature's lovely waist!
Sure, earth now seems no place of graves. A wide
Gay, blooming Paradise! With moistened face,
She smiles, like God, upon this joyous world.
A new, wild burst of various harmony,
Salutes that Bow of charm--that orb of Glory.
Thou art the sun and rainbow to my heart,
And, as they fade from sight--but do not die--
But come to-morrow with their wonted charms,
Thou shalt not die--but gleam o'er me in heaven,
With none of all thy beauty, lost or less.
Can'st thou not sing a song, love, ere it fades?

SHE SINGS.

The Sun gave birth to yonder bow
That trembles in the sky
That life-bestowing sun art thou--
That trembling bow am I.
When he withdraws his beaming face,
The rainbow disappears;
And, if those frown on me but once,
I melt away in tears.

I thank th