we have torn our hearts and hands asunder--
Why we have given o'er those sweet caresses--
The world without will coldly guess and wonder--
Let them guess on, what care we for their guesses!
The secret shall be ours, as ours the pain--
A secret still unheeding friendship's pleading:
What though th' unfeeling world suspect a stain,
But little fears the world a heart with anguish bleeding.

'Tis better we should never meet again--
Our love's renewing were but thy undoing:
When I am gone, time will subdue thy pain,
And thou wilt yield thee to another's wooing--
For me, I go to seek a name in story--
To find a future brighter than the past--
Yet 'midst my highest, wildest dreams of glory,
Sweet thoughts of thee will mingle to the last.

And though this widowed heart may love another--
For living without love, it soon would die--
There will be moments when it cannot smother
Thy sweet remembrance with a passing sigh.
Amidst the ashes of its dying embers
For thee there will be found one deathless thought;
Yes, dearest lady! while this heart remembers,
Believe me, thou shall never be forgot.

Once more farewell! Oh it is hard to yield thee,
To lose for life, forever, thing so fair!
How bright a destiny it were to shield thee--
Yet since I am denied the husband's care,
This grief within my breast here do I smother--
Forego _thy_ painful sacrifice to prove,
That I have been, what never can another,
The hero of thy heart, my own sweet victim love.

THE FADED ROSE.

BY G. G. FOSTER.

Torn from its stem to bloom awhile
Upon thy breast, the dazzling flower
Imbibed new radiance from thy smile--
But, ah! it faded in an hour.
So thou, from peaceful home betrayed,
In beaming beauty floated by;
But ere thy summer had decayed,
We saw thee languish, faint and die.

_Extempore. On a Broken Harp-string._
Too rude the touch--the broken cord
No more may utter music-word,
Yet lives each tone within the air,
Its trembling sighs awakened there.
So in my heart the song I sung,
When thou in rapture o'er me hung,
Still lives--yet thine is not the spell
To lure the music from its shell.

THE CHILD'S APPEAL.

AN INCIDENT OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION.

BY MRS. MARY G. HORSFORD.

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