Page:New Peterson magazine 1859 Vol. XXXVI.pdf/58

 mMWMWMv”/IINIWMIMWIIIIIIIIIJ‘WNNI” III-r"

%

“DESERTEDP—JULY. Ml

vIIN-AA-VA ﬂrIII”I/INN”~rI/’//. 'N/IMMNI'IINJNI rm MVNJWJV

If ,If ‘J'IMW/f lm fml wmf lf l

of taste in all matters relating to the elegancies of life. Among the most desirable plants of pendulous

growth, suited to basket or vases suspended in this manner, are, ﬁrst and foremost, all the ver benas, which are naturally of trailing habit, and of every variety of gay color, from snow white to rose, violet, crimson, and dazzling scarlet. Then there is the pendulous fuchsia, “fuchsia pendula,” which will always form a pleasing ad dition. The pretty moss~like lycopodium ﬂex uosa forms a nice cushion of green for the gayly colored ﬂowers to rest on; and its effect may be

somewhat varied by the introduction of the new species, lycopodium coesum, which is bolder and

TERRA COITA FLOWER VASE.

situation and purpose is one of the great criteria ~ more branching in its growth. MIIIIIWNNVJ’INNIIJINI II 'J/’NMMMWM

“DESERTEDP BY

CLARA

ALL night upon my bed I toss, All day I sigh and moan, Ah, wherefore should I break my heart Against a heart of stone?

MOBE'I‘ON.

Which I had thought to call my own And on my bosom wear!

If/I'NI’IJ/ I’d PI.

But neither gold nor gems were mine— Yet with her by my side I Would have won a prince‘s dower, To deck my bonnie bride.

She rollcth past me in the street With all her pomp and show— She lcanoth on her cushioned seat, Unmindful of my woe.

Alas! alas! what need have I

To struggle with those hands? It seemeth yet but yester-uight,

Without her smiles, oh! what to me

MIWNIII IWIMI NII I. N

Were untold gold or lands?

And still an age ago,

Since her soft hand within my own, I felt her pulses ﬂow.

Oh! cursed—no, no, I will not curse, Peace rest with thee, my love: Let me the only sufferer be, Poor caged and pinioned dove.

I looked into her melting eyes, And read the reﬂex there, Of all that burned within my soul, And thus our hearts lay bare.

Though his coarse arms your form onfold, I know within your breast The memory of our hallowed days Must there forever rest.

Oh! cursed be he who come between

With his ill-gotten gold! 0h! cursed—but no! I dare not curse

And though you school your eyes to scorn And check the heaving sigh, There cannot be but tears for me When others are not nigh.

The mother who hath sold

Her daughter‘s form without her heart; Oh! God! that form so fair,

MMMI’IJI/IIIINI/II HIM

JULY. BY

CLARA

A xsuow haze upon the hills, A fragrance in the noontide still— A gorgeous ripeness in the breeze Flushed with the breath of clover seas. A rich, soft radiance dims the skies;

The clouds are bathed in crimson dyes; And on the distant mountain‘s brow Hang vapors white as drifted snow. The treo-s bend down with weight of leaves, Like sturdy renpa-rs bearing sheaves; The forest. golden-flocked and calm,

Spreads out its miles of pinoy balm.

AUGUSTA.

N/I/f/I/f/JNM/Mf’y MN

Down in the meadow-land the hay Is piled in heaps of sea-weed grey— While the blitho mowers, row on row Lay the luxuriant grasses low. The night falls down—a purple mist Streams up the river, mooulight-kist; And the mock stars on Heaven’s height

Look down through silence of the night. Rest is abroad on zcphyr wings, Making her grateful offerings; Lie down, yo weary! gentle sleep Shall fold yo in her ﬂowery keep.