ay,
And bleeding hearts a melancholy pleasure find.

II.

In memory's faithful mirror here once more we trace
Familiar forms of those in life we knew,
And see again the shadowy outlines of some face
That, living, beamed with kindness--ever true.

III.

Old age, and manhood's prime, and helpless infancy
Have dotted o'er with many an emerald mound,
And marked each stone with mournful tracery
Which stands within this consecrated ground.

IV.

And there the marble shaft its stately head
In polished whiteness pointing to the sky,
And here the modest tribute to the lowly dead--
The silent monitors that tell us all must die.

V.

Here lavish Nature her bright smile imparts
And decks with lovely flowers in early Spring,
And here the sympathetic tear unbidden starts,
And loving hands their sweetest tributes bring.

VI.

Loved spot! A solace to the living 'tis to know
That when at last--life's fitful fever o'er--
The cortege sad, with solemn step and slow,
Shall bear us here, to rest forever more,--

VII.

'Till that bright day when ransomed spirits rise,
And loved and lost shall reunited be,
To dwell in realms beyond the star-lit skies
Throughout one circling, vast eternity!

MY VALENTINE.

I.

I passed her on the crowded street--
This winsome maid, demure and sweet--
And envious saw the silken tresses
That seemed to give her cheeks caresses,
And rapture felt that thrilled me through
When on me glanced those eyes of blue
From underneath the drooping lashes
That could not hide their azure flashes!
And oh, I dreampt of bliss divine
If she would be--my Valentine!

II.

And visions of as fair a face
As painter's pencil e'er did trace
Would haunt the mind each waking hour,
And slumber owned its magic power--
Until I found by merest chance
That belladonna made the glance,
And borrowed hair had lent its aid
For silken tresses of this maid--
And padding--paint--did all combine
To make for me--my Valentine!

A SMOKE.

I.

O others may boast of their pleasures galore--
The miser with rapture may count o'er his store,
And some may imagine great happiness there
In the gay shining beam of Society's glare;
But best of all comforts a feller can know,
While wintry winds whistle and fast flies the snow,
Is a pipe after supper, by a bright blazing fire,
Encircled with ringlets that curl high and higher!

II.

O doctors may tell you and oth