HOSE evening bells! those evening bells!
How many a tale their music tells,

Of youth, and home, and that sweet time,
When last I heard their soothing chime.

Those joyous hours are pass'd away;
And many a heart, that then was gay,
Within the tomb now darkly dwells,
And hears no more those evening bells.

And so 't will be when I am gone;
That tuneful peal will still ring on,

While other bards shall walk these dells,

And sing your praise, sweet evening bells!

THE DREAM OF HOME.

HO has not felt how sadly sweet

The dream of home, the dream of home,

Steals o'er the heart, too soon to fleet,

When far o'er sea or land we roam?

Sunlight more soft may o'er us fall,

To greener shores our bark may come;

But far more bright, more dear than all,
That dream of home, that dream of home.

Ask of the sailor youth when far

His light bark bounds o'er ocean's foam, What charms him most, when ev'ning's star Smiles o'er the wave?-to dream of home. Fond thoughts of absent friends and loves

At that sweet hour around him come;

His heart's best joy where'er he roves,

That dream of home, that dream of home.

THEY TELL ME THOU'RT THE FAVOUR'D GUEST.

HEY tell me thou'rt the favour'd guest

Of ev'ry fair and brilliant throng;

No wit like thine to wake the jest,

No voice like thine to breathe the song;

And none could guess, so gay thou art,
That thou and I are far apart.

Alas! alas! how diff'rent flows

With thee and me the time away!
Not that I wish thee sad-heav'n knows ;
Still if thou canst, be light and gay:

I only know, that without thee

The sun himself is dark to me.

Do I thus haste to hall and bower,

Among the proud and gay to shine?
Or deck my hair with gem and flower,
To flatter other eyes than thine?
Ah, no! with me love's smiles are past;
Thou hadst the first, thou hadst the last.

STILL WHEN DAYLIGHT.

STILL when daylight o'er the wave
Bright and soft its farewell gave,

I used to hear, while light was falling,

O'er the wave a sweet voice calling,
Mournfully at distance calling.

Ah! once how blest that maid would come,
To meet her sea-boy hast'ning home;
And through the night those sounds repeating.
Hail his bark with joyous greeting,

Joyously his light bark greeting.

But, one sad night, when winds were high,
Nor earth, nor heaven, could hear her cry,
She saw his boat come tossing over
Midnight's wave,-but not her lover!
No, never more her lover.

And still that sad dream loth to leave,
She comes with wand'ring mind at eve,
And oft we hear, when night is falling,
Faint her voice through twilight calling,
Mournfully at twilight calling.

THE FANCY FAIR.

OME, maids and youths, for here we sell
All wondrous things of earth and air;
Whatever wild romancers tell,

Or poets sing, or lovers swear,

You'll find at this our Fancy Fair.

Here eyes are made like stars to shine,
And kept, for years, in such repair,
That ev'n when turn'd of thirty-nine,
They'll hardly look the worse for wear,
If bought at this our Fancy Fair.

We've lots of tears for bards to shower,
And hearts that such ill usage bear,

That, though they 're broken ev'ry hour,
They'll still in rhyme fresh breaking bear,
If purchased at our Fancy Fair.

As fashions change in ev'ry thing,

We've goods to suit each season's air:

Eternal friendships for the spring,

And endless loves for summer wear,―
All sold at this our Fancy Fair.