"Twould fill thy soul with sorrow and surprise; And deep surprise to think that aught so fair In one whose spirit sports so light a wing, For I conceal whate'er I bear with pride, And school my soul to play the trifler's part, And smile, though smiling frets and wears my heart As ivies fair and green the wasted wall they hide. VI. How can I cease to love thee? Thirza tell,— What potent magic, or what mighty spell VII. Alas! It cannot be-I call on pride, Manhood and scorn to help me, hate and shame, To root affection like a poisonous weed From out my breast, and found to my despair, VIII. I sit in pensive solitude and sigh, O'er all my faded hopes and visions flown; I live without an aim from day to day, Plodding the dull and weary round of Life, Indifferent what it brings me, calm or strifeNo feeling save the solemn one, Decay! I was a Poet once, my heart was light, And full of sparkling wit and fancies fine, And flung its choicest efforts, as wine From out its depths the beaded bubbles bright; But this is past, the cup is drained, and nought Remains but bitterness, the dregs of sparkling thought. IX. Albeit thou art so wildly loved and dear, I see thee often hopeless and accurst; X. Forgive me dearest if I speak in hate, Mocking and full of scorn, my heart is wild- XI. Forget thee then? I would to Heaven I might― My love is hopeless, vain, a solemn blight, I cannot rid me of it, 'tis entwined Around my very heart strings. Death alone, The freshness of my heart has passed away, XII. We part! and thou art nothing to me now, Thy statue in a lofty niche apart From meaner statues in its storied halls, Yea! like the image of a saint it stands Over the altar of its Temple fairAnd tearful memories with clasped hands, Adoring it like pilgrims kneel in prayer Laying the riches of a thousand lands, The gems of Intellect for gifts and offerings there. XIII. But now a last adieu-farewell again! Never to meet on earth! I tear apart] The burning links that binds us, though my heart Will drag till death, I fear, the broken chain:Be gay and happy, now released and free, Forget the bitter Past and me-Yet no! Let me believe, 'twill lighten half my wo, That thou in distant years will think of me. Thrice happy he, who wins thee for his Bride, And thrice accursed he who loses thee: Brightness and darkness like the guiding light Of Israel, thou turn'st thy shining side To him, thy clouded gloomy side to me— A fadeless day to one,-to one a rayless night. 724 A FAMILIAR LETTER OF SOCIETY. BY CHARLES LEARS. SOCIETY is no more provident. It cannot be called a father or mother-hardly a friend to its people. It says to all men-"You may work if you can get the opportunity-you may have an education if you can afford it. These are your rights." Society, the State no where says, "here in these shops you may work at the trade you like best, and be certain of the reward of labor; here abroad in these fields your right to toil, and to the fruits thereof, is indisputable; here in these institutions around you, are all the means within the power of a whole community to bring together for social, intellectual, and moral culture, and it is not only your right, but your duty to avail yourself of them, and become what God designed you to be-a man—the full stature of a man in Christ Jesus." There is nothing of this in Church or State, but man, laboring man is everywhere dependent upon chance opportunities for labor. He must ask his fellow for the privilege of earning his bread, and if his fellow be able to do without his services, he must beg, or steal, or starve. And he does beg, and steal, and starve, continually. In some places, even the poor privilege of begging is denied. I know a City in which permission of the authorities must be obtained to circulate a petition among the citizens for relief. Nor is there much better opportunity for education. As appropriate to the subject, I will quote from the Common School Journal (published in Boston,) an extract from the Literary Messenger. "Did you see that ragged little straggler?" "Yes, God help him," said my companion. "God help him!" With such easy adjuration do we leave thousands and tens of thousands of human souls to want and ignorance; doom them while yet walking the path of guiltlessness, to future demonstheir own unguided passions. We make them outcasts, wretches, and then punish, in their wickedness, our own selfishness, our own neglect. We cry "God help the boy," and hang the man. Yet a moment. The child is still before us, can you not see around it, contending for it, the principles of good and evil? A contest between the angels and the fiends? Come hither Statesman, you who live within a party circle; you who nightly fight some miserable fight, continually strive in some selfish struggle for power and place; considering men as only tools, the merest instruments of your aggrandizement; come here, in this filthy street, and look upon God's image in its boyhood. Consider this little man. Are not creatures such as these the noblest, grandest, things of Earth? Have they not human natures, are they not subtly touched for the highest purposes of human life? Come they not into this world to grace and dignify it? *** It lies before you a fair unsullied thing, fresh from the hand of God. Will you without an effort, let the grand fiend stamp his fiery brand upon it? Shall it, in its innocence, be made a trading thing by misery and vice? A creature driven from street to street, a piece of living merchandize for mingled beggary and crime? Say! what with its awakening soul shall it learn? What lessons whereby to pass through life, making an item in the social sum? Why cunning will be its wisdom; hypocrisy its truth; theft its natural law of self-preservation." "To this child, so nurtured, so taught, your whole code of morals, nay your brief right and wrong, are written in stranger figures than Egyptian hieroylgphics; and--time passes,--and you scourge the creature, never taught, for the heinous guilt of knowing naught but ill! The good has been a sealed book to him, and the dunce is punished with the jail." "Doubtless there are great Statesmen; wizards in bullion and bank bills; thinkers profound in cotton, and every turn and variation of the markets abroad and at home; but there are Statesmen yet to come, Statesmen of nobler aims, of more heroic action; teachers of the people, vindicators of the universal dignity of man, apostles of the great social truth, that knowledge, which is the spiritual light of God, like his material light, was made to bless and comfort all men. And when these men arise-and it is worse than weak, it is sinful to despair of them, the youngling poor will not be bound upon the very threshold of human life, and made for force, by want and ignorance, life's shame and curse." There is not a babe lying in the public street upon its mother's lap, the unconscious mendicant to ripen into the future criminal, that is not a reproach to the State, a scandal and a crying shame upon men who study all politics, save the politics of the heart. How many of the earth's population can live up to the requirements of the laws of life and organization? How many can live up to the requirements of the law of life? Because of |