Exchange Clippings.
Oh truly thou art wondrous fair, my Belle
And matchless are the beauty and the grace
That sit enthroned on thy lovely face.
Thy queenly charm doth act like magic spell
To captivate all eyes, all hearts as well,
And bring them to thy feet, a suppliant,
Thy flashing eyes, like twinkling sumbeams, trace
Such beaming brightness they the night dispel.
But fairer than thine outward charms to me
The woman’s heart I think I see in thee,
Thy brave, true spirit and thy constant love,
Thy faithful loyalty to One above;
These charms shall wax as youthful glories wane,
For graces of the soul forever reign. Wesleyan
Exult, my love, in the brazen blasts,
And soar with the gales that blow!
Leap true, my heart, at their mystic breath
And speed where the hill winds go!
Rejoice, rejoice in thy rev’ling course, —
Awild and glad and free!
Transcend, my love, the Things that are,
And strive to the Things to be!
A street Arab stood on a weighing machine,
At the close of an autumn day
He dropped a counterfeit cent in the slot
And silently stole a weigh.
SONNET.
WINTER SONG,
—Dartmouth Magazine ,
Ex,