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Perhaps your eyes may grow more bright

As childhood's hues depart;
You may be lovelier to the sight,

And dearer to the heart;
You may be sinless still, and see
This earth still

green

and

gay ; But what you are you will not be,

Laugh on, laugh on, to-day!

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O'er me have many winters crept,

With less of grief than joy; But I have learned, and toiled, and wept.-

I am no more a boy!

I've never had the gout, 'tis true,

My hair is hardly gray;
But now I cannot laugh like you;

Laugh on, laugh on, to-day!

VI.
I used to have as glad a face,

As shadowless a brow;
I once could run as blithe a race

As you are running now;
But never mind how I behave,

Don't interrupt your play,
And, though I look so very grave,

Laugh on, laugh on, to-day!

EXERCISE XLVII.

ARTHUR CLEVELAND Coxe is an Episcopal clergyman, and was born at Mendbam, in New Jersey, in the year 1818. He is a lyric poet of remarkable merit, and writes chiefly on religious themes. The following is one of his best productions.

HYMN OF BOYHOOD.

A. CLEVELAND 00.

I.

The first dear thing that I ever loved,

Was a mother's gentle eye,
That smiled, as I woke on the dreamy couch

That cradled my infancy.
I never forget the joyous thrill

That smile in my spirit stirred,
Nor how it could charm me against my will,

Till I laughed like a joyous bird.

II.

And the next fair thing that ever I loved,

Was a bunch of summer flowers,

With odors, and hues, and loveliness,

Fresh as from Eden's bowers.
I never can find such hues again,

Nor smell such sweet perfume;
And, if there be odors as sweet as then

'Tis I that have lost the bloom.

III. And the next dear thing that ever I loved,

Was a fawn-like little maid, Half pleased, half awed by the frolic boy

That tortured her doll, and played :
I never can see the gossamer

Which rude, rough zephyrs tease,
But I think how I tossed her flossy locks

With my whirling bonnet's breeze.

IV.

And the next good thing that ever I loved,

Was a bow-kite in the sky;
And a little boat on the brooklet's surf,

And a dog for my company;
And a jingling hoop, with many a bound

To my measured strike and true;
And a rocket sent up to the firmament,

When Even was out so blue.

V.

And the next fair thing I was fond to love,

Was a field of wavy grain,
Where the reapers mowed; or a ship in sail

On the billowy, billowy main :
And the next was a fiery prancing horse

That I felt like a man to stride;
And the next was a beautiful sailing-boat

With a helm it was hard to guide.

VI.

And the next dear thing I was fond to love,

Is tenderer far to tell;
'Twas a voice, and a hand, and gentle eye

That dazzled me with its spell :
And the loveliest things I had loved before,

Were only the landscape now,
On the canvas bright where I pictured her,

In the glow of my early vow.

VII.

And the next good thing I was fain to love,

Was to sit in my cell alone,
Musing o'er all these lovely things,

Forever, forever flown.
Then out I walked in the forest free,

Where wantoned the autumn wind,
And the colored boughs swung shiveringly,

In harmony with my mind.

VIII.

And a spirit was on me that next I loved,

That ruleth my spirit still,
And maketh me murmur these sing-song words,

Albeit against my will.
And I walked the woods till the winter came,

And then did I love the snow;
And I heard the gales, through the wild wood aisles,

Like the LORD's own organ blow.

IX.

And the bush I had loved in my greenwood walk,
I saw it afar

away,
Surpliced with snows, like the bending priest

That kneels in the church to pray:

And I thought of the vaulted fane, and high,

Where I stood when a little child, Awed by the lauds sung thrillingly,

And the anthems undefiled.

X.
And again to the vaulted church I went,

And I heard the same sweet prayers,
And the same full organ-peals upsent,

And the same soft soothing airs;
And I felt in my spirit so drear and strange

To think of the race I ran,
That I loved the lone thing that knew no change,

In the soul of the boy and man.

XI.

And the tears I wept in the wilderness,

And that froze on my lids, did fall, And melted to pearls for my sinfulness,

Like scales on the eyes of Paul: And the dear thing I was fond to love,

Was that holy service high, That lifted my soul to joys above

And pleasures that do not die.

XII.

And then, said I, one thing there is

That I of the LORD desire, That ever,

while I on earth shall live,
I will of the LORD require, -
That I may dwell in His temple blest,

As long as my life shall be;
And the beauty fair of the LORD of Hosts,

In the home of His glory see.

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