of gold,
The purple sassafras as sheen,
Which trumpet vines enfold.

We played our youthful games for hours,
And told our childish tales;
Adorned each brow with fragrant flowers,
And slept 'neath cooling gales.

For I was then but nine years old,
And she was only seven;
Yet joys like ours can ne'er be told--
They savored much of heaven.

Close by the bank, in shady nooks,
The waxen lilies grew;
We called them fish, and with our hooks
To shore full many drew.

With these I made a wreath for Nell.
She was so good and pure,
They seemed to suit her brow so well,
Yet could not long endure

The heated brow and dewless air--
The river suits them best;
But graced awhile her golden hair,
As dove would silken nest.

Frail like the lilies, too, was Nell.
The fever's scorching blast
Swept by, and my fair flowerette fell,
And to the dust was cast.

But now she blooms in glory land,
Close by the tree of Life;
Better to bloom at God's right hand
Than in this world of strife.

I hope some day to meet her there,
And as in days of yore
We plucked the lilies, pure and fair,
Up there we'll gather more.

GATHER THE WAYSIDE FLOWERS

'Tis well to have a goal in mind,
A life-aim, high and true;
Clear as the day, and well defined,
And ever kept in view.
But God has strewn along the way
Bright flowers of every hue.
Gather the brightest while you may,
For they were meant for you.

Heaven's joy transcends the joys of earth,
But if earth's joys be pure
They must have had a heavenly birth,
And bless while they endure;
So pluck the flower before it fades--
Drink from the purling stream;
Nor look for sorrow's darkening shades,
But for the morning gleam.

Life's burdens lose full half their weight
If gay our spirits be;
The rest beyond we antedate,
And serve, though ever free.
Our lamentations all will end,
Exchanged for smile and song,
And men will mark our upward trend
By joy-points all along.

The poet wrote, "no room for mirth;"
Much less for sigh and frown.
"A vale of tears" may be this earth--
'Tis so to every clown.
The desert blossoms as the rose,
And joy flows everywhere;
The star of hope in brightness glows,
No room for dark despair.

Before we reach God's heaven above,
Enjoy His heaven below;
And by the ministries of love
A Christlike nature show;
For he who lives a selfish life
Must lose the joy of this;
For hi