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LITERATURE GOING TO THE WALL.-The following advertisement seems to open a new field to men of letters :

two, and footstools, that sometimes had cushions, side in the dark ages: when we remain near the and, above all, high-backed forms and screens- fire, the part of our bodies nearest to it is liable to both most admirable inventions for neutralizing be roasted, whilst our back feels freezing, so that draughts of cold air in these dank and chilling we are obliged, when "one side has lost its genial apartments. Andirons, fire-forks, fire-pans, and heat, to turn about and give the chilly side to the tongs, were the implements to supply and arrange fire." No invention has as yet enabled us to prethe fuel. Hearth-recesses with flues were com- serve a uniform and genial artificial climate in every mon in the principal chambers of houses of per- part of our dwellings-an art in which even the sons of condition; and were superseding what Romans excelled us. Yet this is the age of ingeAubrey calls flues, like louver holes, in the habi-nuity and luxury. tations of all classes. The adage, that 'one good fire heats the whole house,' was found true only in the humbler dwellings; for in palace and mansion, though great fires blazed in the presence chamber, or hall, or parlor, the domestics were literally famishing with cold. This discomfort did not, however, proceed from selfish or stingy housekeeping, but rather from an affectation of hardihood, particularly among the lower classes, There are many authors who will no doubt be when effeminacy was reckoned a reproach. Be- very happy to treat with the trustees of public sides, few could know what comfort really was; buildings, and we shall ourselves have much but those who did, valued it highly. Sanders pleasure in supplying the walls of Westminster relates that Henry VIII. gave the revenues of a Hall, at per yard, according to quality. We have convent, which he had confiscated, to a person fitted up a few panes in our office-window with who placed a chair for him commodiously before specimens, and a sheet of jocular paper-hanging the fire, and out of all draughts." may be seen in daily operation at 92 Fleet

INTELLECTUAL PAPER-HANGINGS, in which the writings of various authors are inserted in ornamental patterns, &c., &c.

This description of an English fireside is accu-street.

dramatists could furnish the walls of the condemned cell with productions of a genial nature. We are happy to see the paper-hangers coming forward in aid of the literature of the country, which has had no such friends since the old original trunk-maker, whose services to the cause of letters are recognized by Sir Gilbert Norman in Mr. Jerrold's new comedy. Of the two, we prefer the celebrity of the walls to the semi-immortality of the portmanteau; for though the latter may last longest, the former is calculated to bestow a larger popularity. The literature of the trunk seldom meets the eye of any but the owner and the custom-house; while the author who

rate, even applied to a much later period-to in- We should say that various authors should be deed all the intervening space between the time selected to do the mural literature for various of Queen Mary and that of William, Prince of apartments. George Jones, who must by this Orange; for it was not till the latter reign that time be sadly in want of a job, would be invaluacoal became the staple fuel. The prejudice against ble as a writer for sleeping-rooms; and Jenkins, it, which we have before adverted to, was as strong if he is to be found, could undertake to cover the as it was unaccountable. As an instance of it, we walls of the servants' hall with belles-letters of the may mention, in passing, that when first introduced, most appropriate character. The industrious authe Commons petitioned the crown in 1306 to pro-thor of Jack Sheppard" might do the whole of hibit burning the "noxious" fuel. A " royal pro- the paper-hanging for Newgate; and some of our clamation having failed to abate the growing nuisance, a commission was issued to ascertain who burned sea-coal within the city and in its neighborhood, and to punish them by fine for the first offence, and by demolition of their furnaces if they persisted in transgression; and more vigorous measures had to be resorted to. A law was passed making it a capital offence to burn sea-coal within the city of London, and only permitting it to be used in forges in the neighborhood. Among the records in the Tower, Mr. Astle found a document, importing that in the time of Edward I., a man had been tried, convicted, and executed, for the crime of burning sea-coal in London." It took, then, three centuries to efface this prejudice; but when once coal was adopted, the whole aspect of the fireside was changed. For the capacious is sure of his productions coming under the obserhearth, was substituted the narrower, less social, vation, at least, of all classes.-Punch. though compact and tidy one now in use. Chimneypieces were introduced, at first elaborately carved in wood, and afterwards of marble. The fireheld in a grate or stove-was smaller and more concentrated to one part of the room. Despite the hosts of inventions which have for more than a century been in use to improve the grate, it still remains in principle and general utility the same as it did from the first day coal was generally burned. And despite the patents of Polignac, Bernhard, Evelyn, Rumford, for open grates, and those of Arnott and others for closed ones, our family circles still draw around a fireplace differing in no very essential particular from that which warmed our grandfathers and grandmothers. So little good have all modern contrivances really effected, that we of the present hour suffer the same inconveniences as the occupants of the Welsh fire

"Paints a panel or adorns a wall,"

Ir is but three or four weeks since that we gave an account of the extraordinary age of Mr. and Mrs. Plaisance, then living in Redmoor Fen, in the Isle of Ely, the husband of the age of 107, the wife 105!-a case without parallel perhaps in England or in the world. On Wednesday, strange to relate, after a short affliction, both expired on the same day; their united ages 212. The greater part of their lives were passed when agues were so prevalent in the Fens that very few escaped the disorder, yet their lives were prolonged to this extraordinary period; and Providence seems to have ordained that as they had lived so long together, in death they were not divided. They have left one daughter, who lived with them, of the age of 84.—Bury Post.

A PARENTAL ODE TO MY SON,

AGED THREE YEARS AND FIVE MONTHS.

THOU happy, happy elf!

(But stop-first let me kiss away that tear) Thou tiny image of myself!

(My love, he 's poking peas into his ear) Thou merry, laughing sprite ! With spirits feather light,

Untouched by sorrow, and unsoiled by sin, (Good heavens! the child is swallowing a pin !) Thou little tricksy Puck!

With antic toys so funnily bestuck,

Light as the singing bird that wings the air, (The door! the door! he'll tumble down the stair!)

Thou darling of thy sire!

(Why, Jane, he'll set his pinafore afire!)
Thou imp of mirth and joy!

In love's dear chain so strong and bright a link,
Thou idol of thy parents (Drat the boy!
There goes my ink!)

Thou cherub-but of earth;
Fit playfellow for Fays by moonlight pale,
In harmless sport and mirth,

(That dog will bite him if he pulls its tail!)
Thou human humming-bee, extracting honey
From every blossom in the world that blows,
Singing in youth's Elysium ever sunny,
(Another tumble-that 's his precious nose!)

Thy father's pride and hope! (He'll break the mirror with that skipping rope!) With pure heart newly stamped from nature's mint,

(Where DID he learn that squint?) Thou young domestic dove! (He 'll have that jug off with another shove !) Dear nursling of the hymeneal nest! (Are those torn clothes his best?) Little epitome of man!

(He'll climb upon the table, that 's his plan!) Touched with the beauteous tints of dawning life,

(He's got a knife!)

Thou enviable being!

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line of immoral tendency, or calculated to pain an individual, can be pointed out; whose poems and serious writings rank among the noblest modern contributions to our national literature; and whose pen was ever the ready and efficient advocate of the unfortunate and the oppressed (as recently, for instance, in the admirable Song of the Shirt,' which gave so remarkable an impulse to the movement on behalf of the distressed needlewomen)has left, by his death, a widow and two children in straightened and precarious circumstances, with no other means of subsistence than a small pension, terminable on the failure of the widow's life, barely sufficient to supply a family of three with common necessaries, and totally inadequate for the education and advancement of the orphan children. Even this scanty resource has been, of necessity, forestalled to a considerable extent during the last five months, in order to meet the heavy sick-room and funeral expenses. Under these circumstances a few noblemen and gentlemen, admirers of Thomas Hood's genius and humanity, have formed a committee for the purpose of raising a sum by subscription, to be held in trust for the benefit of the family during the widow's life, and at her death to be divided between the children, whom that event will leave destitute. Publicity is given to this design, in order that Thomas Hood's admirers throughout the country may have an opportunity of publicly testifying their recognition of his genius, and their sense of his personal worth." We heartily hope the design may prosper. Lords Northampton and Francis Egerton, and Sir E. Bulwer Lytton, are on the list of committee; and some handsome donations have already been made.

Will not some of the "merchant-princes" of Boston head an American movement to show gratitude and respect to an eminent FRIEND OF MAN?

A NEW article of import has been introduced by the Trent steamer, from the West Indies, in new

No storms, no clouds, in thy blue sky foreseeing, potatoes; which have been successfully cultivated

Play on, play on,

My elfin John!

Toss the light ball-bestride the stick,

(I knew so many cakes would make him sick!) With fancies buoyant as the thistle-down, Prompting the face grotesque, and antic brisk

With many a lamblike frisk, (He's got the scissors, snipping at your gown,) Thou pretty opening rose !

(Go to your mother, child, and wipe your nose!) Balmy, and breathing music like the south, (He really brings my heart into my mouth!) Fresh as the morn and brilliant as its star, (I wish that window had an iron bar!) Bold as the hawk, yet gentle as the dove, (I'll tell you what, my love,

cannot write unless he 's sent above!)

T. Hood.

WE are saddened at the tidings of Mr. HooD's death. The following circular was about to be issued :

"This distinguished writer-who has for upwards of twenty years entertained the public with a constant succession of comic and humoristic works, in the whole range of which not a single

in the Bermudas, for the early supply of the English market, grown from the best seeds. The climate and soil is well suited for their growth, and about a ton has been brought over as a sample by the above steamer. In boiling, they are said to be even of superior quality to those of home produce, being less watery. The same vessel has also brought over a quantity of pine-apples, preserved in their juice in bottles, which are likely to be a very valuable addition to the kitchen.Morning Post.

A LUSUS NATURE.-The Court Newsman tells us that the queen and Prince Albert postponed their visit to Claremont on account of the royal children having been "unexpectedly attacked by the hooping-cough." The Court Newsman being a perfect courtier, has, of course, no right to expect that anything so common as the hoopingcough should approach the royal infants. Our contemporary appears to be utterly taken aback at the idea of the vulgar hooping-cough having made its appearance in the nursery at Buckingham palace. How it got there is a marvel to the Court Newsman, who uses the word "unexpectedly" to mark his sense of the impertinent intrusion which the malady has been guilty of.Punch.

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MRS. CAUDLE HAS BEEN ΤΟ SEE HER DEAR | You can sit up half the night with a pack of peoMOTHER. CAUDLE, ON THE JOYFUL OCCA-ple who don't care for you, and your poor wife SION," HAS GIVEN A PARTY, AND ISSUED THE can't get in a word!

CARD OF INVITATION.

Ir is hard, I think, Mr. Caudle, that I can't leave home for a day or two, but the house must be turned into a tavern: a tavern?-a pothouse! Yes, I thought you were very anxious that I should go; I thought you wanted to get rid of me for something, or you would not have insisted on my staying at dear mother's all night. You were afraid I should get cold coming home, were you? Oh yes, you can be very tender, you can, Mr. Caudle, when it suits your own purpose. Yes, and the world thinks what a good husband you are! I only wish the world knew you as well as I do, that 's all; but it shall, some day, I'm determined.

"I'm sure the house will not be sweet for a month. All the curtains are poisoned with smoke; and, what's more, with the filthiest smoke I ever knew. Take 'em down then? Yes, it's all very well for you to say, take 'em down; but they were only cleaned and put up a month ago; but a careful wife's lost upon you, Mr. Caudle. You ought to have married somebody who 'd have let your house go to wreck and ruin, as I will for the future. People who don't care for their families are better thought of than those who do; I've long found out that.

"And what a condition the carpet's in? They 've taken five pounds out of it, if a farthing, with their filthy boots, and I don't know what besides. And then the smoke in the hearth-rug, and a large cinder-hole burnt in it! I never saw such a house in my life! If you wanted to have a few friends, why could n't you invite 'em when your wife's at home, like any other man? not have 'em sneaking in, like a set of housebreakers, directly a woman turns her back. They must be pretty gentlemen, they must; mean fellows that are afraid to face a woman! Ha! and you all call yourselves the lords of the creation! I should only like to see what would become of the creation, if you were left to yourselves! A pretty pickle creation would be in very soon!

"And there's that China image that I had when I was married-I would n't have taken any sum of money for it, and you know it-and how do I find it? With its precious head knocked off! And what was more mean, more contemptible than all besides, it was put on again, as if nothing had happened. You knew nothing about it? Now, how can you lie there, in your Christian bed, Caudle, and say that? You know that that fellow, Prettyman, knocked off the head with the poker! You know that he did. And you had n't the feeling-yes, I will say it-you had n't the feeling to protect what you knew was precious to me. Oh no, if the truth was known, you were very glad to see it broken for that very reason.

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Every way, I've been insulted. I should like to know who it was who corked whiskers on my dear aunt's picture? Oh! you're laughing, are you? You're not laughing? Don't tell me that. I should like to know what shakes the bed, then, if you 're not laughing? Yes, corked whiskers on her dear face-and she was a good soul to you, Caudle, and you ought to be ashamed of yourself to see her ill-used. Oh, you may laugh! It's very easy to laugh! I only wish you'd a little feeling, like other people, that's all.

"Then there's my china mug-the mug I had before I was married-when I was a happy creature. I should like to know who knocked the spout off that mug? Don't tell me it was cracked before it's no such thing, Caudle; there was n't a flaw in it-and now I could have cried when I saw it. Don't tell me it was n't worth twopence. How do you know? You never buy mugs. But that's like men; they think nothing in a house costs anything.

"There's four glasses broke, and nine cracked. At least, that's all I've found out at present; but I dare say I shall discover a dozen to-morrow.

"And I should like to know where the cotton umbrella's gone to-and I should like to know who broke the bell-pull-and perhaps you don't know there's a leg off a chair-and perhaps-"

"Here," says Caudle, "Morpheus came to my aid, and I slept; nay, I think I snored.”—Punch.

From the Examiner.

THE PORTENDICK BLOCKADE.

"You must all have been in a nice condition! What do you say? You took nothing? Took nothing, did n't you? I'm sure there's such a regiment of empty bottles, I havn't had a heart to count 'em. And punch, too! you must have punch! There's a hundred half-lemons in the kitchen, if there's one for Susan, like a good girl, kept 'em to show 'em me. No, sir; Susan shan't leave the house! What do you say? She THIS is one of the many questions in foreign has no right to tell tales, and you WILL be master policy of the true merits of which the public are in your own house? Will you? If you don't not in the least aware, and yet on several occasions alter, Mr. Caudle, you'll soon have no house to within the last few years, when the subject has be master of. A whole loaf of sugar did I leave been brought before parliament, noble lords and in the cupboard, and now there is n't as much as honorable members have expressed themselves in would fill a tea-cup. Do you suppose I'm to find terms of strong indignation against the supposed sugar for punch for fifty men? What do you violence and injustice of France, and of sympathy say? There wasn't fifty? That's no matter; with the unfortunate sufferers in the city, who the more shame for 'em, sir. I'm sure they drank have assumed the character of victims of French enough for fifty. Do you suppose I'm to find audacity and oppression. We entertained long sugar for punch for all the world out of my house-ago a strong suspicion that the claims put forward keeping money? You don't ask me? Don't you in this matter by the merchants to the extent of ask me? You do; you know you do for if I only want a shilling extra, the house is in a blaze. And yet a whole loaf of sugar can you throw away upon- -No, I won't be still; and I won't let you go to sleep. If you'd got to bed at a proper hour last night, you would n't have been so sleepy now.

75,000l, were enormously exaggerated, and the result has fully justified that suspicion, for, according to the award of the king of Prussia, the entire indemnity allotted to the claimants has been fixed at about 1,7007.

We take for granted, that when the British

government submitted this matter to the arbitra- | were bona fide at war, and found it necessary to tion of the King of Prussia, the whole of the establish a blockade for belligerent purposes. claims were fairly laid before his majesty, and that no material feature in the case was withheld from his notice. This being so, the award appears to us a cutting reflection upon the absurd pretensions of these merchants, which have been so largely curtailed by the Prussian award. It is, however, a gratifying circumstance, that the case has been so disposed of as to prevent the rupture (at one time seriously threatened) of our pacific relations with France, and also to preclude the possibility of any just demand being made upon parliament by parties whose claims have already been thoroughly sifted and adjusted at Berlin.

We rather think, then, that the king of Prussia's award in this dispute will teach our government some useful lessons, and among them that of using more caution and circumspection before espousing these alleged mercantile grievances, and attempting to force them for compensation upon foreign powers. So far from our having sustained any considerable injury from the French, the truth is that France has no small reason to complain of us, for having presented her with a demand to the amount of 75,000l., when, in fairness, we were only entitled to 1,7001. Our executive, of course, owes deference to the opinion of parliament; but we trust parliament will never be deficient in the respect due to the rules of international law, nor will ever be so far misled by the clamor of interested parties as to sacrifice to it one jot of strict justice, or one opportunity for the conservation of peace.

ARBITERS IN DISPUTES BETWEEN NATIONS.

There has, however been a dispute between the Times and Chronicle upon the question whether the agreement between England and France, referring the matter to Prussia, was defective by excluding from the consideration of the arbitrator the question of the legality of the blockade. The Chronicle maintains that the claims were referred to Prussia with the reservation that those claims, which turned upon the legality of the blockade, being the greater part of the whole, should not be adjudicated upon;-ergo, they have not been de-pean Council to exercise jurisdiction in national termined-M. Guizot has juggled Lord Aberdeen -the victims must be indemnified by the nation and John Bull must pay the piper. We agree with the Times in pronouncing the existence of such a juggle to be wholly incredible. The fact appears to have been simply this-all the claims, and all circumstances and questions connected therewith, were referred to the royal arbitrator, and among those circumstances the validity of the blockade was one which was forced upon him to consider and determine. But the agreement of reference contained a clause stipulating that the general belligerent right to blockade the Bay of Portendick in time of war-claimed by France and disputed by England-should not be affected by the award; that is, that the award should not be a precedent, whichever way it might decide. Nothing, then, can be clearer than that the Prussian award has disposed of the question of the blockade, in so far as it affected the claims of these merchants, but that the general international question between England and France, of the right of the latter to blockade Portendick in time of war, remains exactly where it did before the arbitration.

PROJECTS for the establishment of a great Eurocontroversies, and thus prevent wars, are as old as the age of Henri Quatre. The increased frequency in modern times of the practice of referring disputes between two governments to the decision of a third independent government has been hailed by philanthropists as preparing the minds of men for the establishment of such a council. When arbitration, it has been said, becomes the rule and war the exception-when a number of arbitral decisions sufficiently large to form a body of precedents has accumulated-a fixed code of international law may be said to have been formed, and governments will hesitate less to recognize a court authorized to apply its rules to special cases than they do at present when all is vague and unsettled.

The experience of England, however, has not hitherto been of a kind to inspire us with confidence in the judgments of arbiters. Take for example the recent decision of the King of Prussia in the Portendick_controversy between this country and France. The only question between the two countries was, whether in inflicting injury upon British traders France was acting on its right. Respecting the amount of injury received there has been ultimately no dispute. France maintained that the injury complained of was unavoidably inflicted in the process of enforcing a legal blockade. The French minister admits that the intended blockade was never intimated to the British government. There was no legal blockade. Yet the King of Prussia, for what reason is not stated, pares down the restitution to be made to a miserable fraction of the property actually abstracted or destroyed.

So far as we can make out the merits of this latter question, (which has been fully stated by the Times' correspondent Mercator,) we are clearly of opinion that France possesses, and always did possess, the right to blockade any part of the coast of Africa in the occupation, either permanent or temporary, of her enemies with whom she is at war. The King of the French was at war with the king of the Trarzas (for the Trarzas are a nation having a monarchical government,) and in order to cut off the supplies of the Trarzas through Portendick, the French blockaded the coast with- Again when the controversy between Great in certain limits. Upon what grounds a British Britain and the United States respecting the southminister disputed so legitimate a proceeding we eastern boundary of Canada was referred to the are at a loss to discover. Certainly there are arbitration of the King of Holland, an award was many cases in which a British squadron has estab-made, which, though it did not give us all we lished and maintained blockades, both in Africa claimed, could not exactly be called an adverse and other parts of the world, under circumstances decision. But from this award we derived no not more justifiable. There was, indeed, a clause benefit. A pettifogging technical plea, as to the in an old treaty, which concedes to the English competency to pronounce such a judgment under the right of carrying on the gum trade between the terms of the reference, was raised by the Portendick and the River St. John, but that right United States government, and negotiations began became, of course, suspended when the French anew.

This country, at least, seems to have no chance of justice under the arbitration system. Either it is denied us by the arbiters themselves in consequence of some inexplicable refinement of reasoning, or it is evaded by our co-referees on some technical quibble. A nation ought to sacrifice much to avoid war, but there are limits to the application of this principle. A nation is not bound

is not entitled-to submit to a series of unjust decisions or evasions. Acquiescence may invite arbiters to decide against the party which has always shown itself most yielding; and many small robberies may make up a large sum, besides encouraging to more wholesale plunder. England has sacrificed enough already to give the arbitration experiment a fair trial. It is proposed that the Oregon controversy should also be referred to arbiters with the recent experience of the Canadian boundary and Portendick controversies, England had better keep the maintenance of her rights in Oregon in her own hands for the present.-Spectator.

THE MIRROR OF THE DANUBE.

BY FRANCES BROWN.

ON forests bright with fading leaves,
On hills of misty blue,
And on the gathered gold of sheaves
That by the Danube grew,
The setting sun of autumn shed
A mellow radiance rich and red,
As ever dyed the storied flood,

Since Roman blent with Dacian blood.
But Rome and Dacia both were gone,
Yet the old river still rolled on;
And now upon its sands, apart,
A peasant mother stood,
With beaming eye and bounding heart,
Marking the fearless mood

Of her young children's mirth that rang
Where late the joyous reaper sang.
She blessed each yet unsaddened voice,
Each head of golden hair,
Her rosy girl, her blooming boys,

And their young sire for there
Was gathered all that meek heart's store:
The earth for her contained no more.
Yet with the love of that long gaze,
Were blent far dreams of future days;
And oh to learn what time's swift wing
To her life's blossoms yet might bring.
Then came a sound like passing wind

O'er the old river's breast,
And that young mother turned to find,
Upon the wave impressed,
The mirrored semblance of a scene
That never on its banks had been.
It seemed a pillared fane that rose
For justice far away,

In some old city at the close
Of a long trial day;

When hope and doubt alike were past,
And bright the midnight torches cast
Their splendor on a breathless crowd,
Dense as the summer's thunder cloud;
Ere the first lightning breaks its gloom,
Waiting the words of death and doom.
But far amid that living sea

Of faces dark and strange,

One visage claimed her memory;

In spite of time and change,
And all that fortune's hand had done,
The mother knew her first-born son.
Sternly he sat in judgment there;

But who were they that stood
Before him at that fatal bar?

Was he-the unsubdued

In heart and eye, though more than age
Had written on his brow's broad page
The fiery thoughts of restless years,
Whose griefs had never fallen in tears;
Unblanched by guilt, untouched by scorn,
Her beautiful, her youngest born,
And he upon whose hair and heart
Alike had fallen the snows
Of winters that no more depart;

The worn of many woes
And hopeless years—was he in truth
The loved, the chosen of her youth?
She knew not what of woe and crime
Had seared each form and soul,
Nor how the tides of fate and time
Had borne them to that goal;
So much unlike that peaceful scene
Of stream, and corn, and sunset sheen:
And they, oh how unlike to those
Whose fearless joy around her rose!
And yet through sorrow, guilt, and shame,
She knew they were the very same.
Their judge, perchance, he knew them not;
For o'er his brow there passed

No troubled shade of haunting thought
From childhood's roof-tree cast;
Save that his glance, so coldly bright,
Fell with a strange unquiet light
Upon a face that still was fair,

Though early worn and wan.
Yet lines of loftier thought were there;
The spirit's wealth, that ran
To waste, for sin bore darkly down
What might have worn an angel's crown.
And o'er that mother's eye, which yet
Beheld, and wept not till it met
The gaze of her lost girl, there came
A sudden gush of sorrow's stream,
As though the drop that overflowed
Its urn had fallen there.

But when it passed that darkening cloud,
And she looked forth again

On the old river, vanished all
Were city, crowd, and judgment-hall.
The autumn night, with sudden gloom,
Came down on sea and shore,
And silently her cottage home

She sought; but never more
Gazed on the Danube's slumbering wave,
Nor wept above an early grave;
Or cast one look of pride and joy
On rosy girl or blooming boy;
And even from their haunts of play
Her glance was sadly turned away;
But deep in dreamless slumber sealed
Her eyes from all the tears
Whose coming that bright eve revealed.
And all the after years
Kept the dark promise of that hour.
And had the earth's old rivers power
To mirror the far clouds that lie
So darkly in life's distant sky,
How many a loving heart would turn,
Like hers, for comfort to the urn.

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