o soon thy youth and freshness
May, like them, be flung away.

Light of heart, she nears the copse-wood,
From its depths sweet voices throng;
Voices of the jay and blue-bird,
And the wild wood-robin's song.

By the water-brook she's standing,
Where the purple violets grow,
Where the wind-flower and sweetbriar,
And the starry woodbines blow.

By the water-brook she's standing,
And her heart begins to fail;
Still she watches, still she listens,
Hearing but the night-owl's wail.

Silent shadows flit around her,
Looming darkly, broad, and tall;
But one shadow well remembered
Sees she not among them all.

Ah, perhaps--perhaps he may be
To his vow a traitor base!
Down into the clear brook glancing
There she sees her own sweet face.

Down into the clear brook gazing
There she sees her own sweet face;
Sees she also there reflected
One of noble, manly grace.

"Effie! Effie! late last evening,"
Spake he, circling her soft waist,
"My proud sire--and soon thine, darling--
Read the lines thy hand had traced;

"Breathing of thy sweet self, Effie,
Full of tenderness and truth--
'Such a heart, such wit and wisdom
Must be cherished, by my sooth!'

"Thus my sire--the lines re-reading
Traced by thy beloved hand--
Still he spake, 'Such wit, such wisdom.
Would grace lady of the land!'

"Then it was, my darling Effie,
Pleaded I thy cause and mine--
'Yes, yes, yes, I've watched thee, youngster,
Watched thee sigh, and pale, and pine!'

"More he said, my darling Effie--
For he knew my death he'd mourn
That the haughty claim of station
Is at last by love o'erborne."

[Illustration: SPRING.

Engraved expressly for Godey's Lady's Book by J.B. Neagle.]

YE COME TO ME IN DREAMS.

BY NILLA.

YE come to me in dreams, baby,
In visions of the night;
Thy blue eye, full of blessedness,
Is glancing on my sight:
The music of thy breath, baby,