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:\FERN LEAVER : SONOJOT THE…

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:\FERN LEAVER SONOJOT THE LONDON WORK GIRL. GRBEN as the emerald glancing in sunbeams, Graceful as though from the hand of a fairy Fresh as if still in the waters of cool streams, Laving thy plumage fantastic and airy—3 Hast thoa unfolded thy fan.leaf in valleym ? Thou and the primrose close nestled together Or far in the depths of the lone forest alleys, Besprinkled with russet the bloom of the heather ? Hast thou been waving on bine far-off mountains ?! Or drooping thy plnmas o'er the rock-roughened dell? Or flung like a veil over deep springing fountains, Didst thou change the bright sunbeams to green as they fell? Ah, mute as thy leaf is, it yet hath a voice, Which tells me of scenes that I never may see, And bids me in spirit look up fin4 rejoice At the beauty and love that are lavished on thee Gloomy and.dark though the lot 1 inherit, Poverty-bound like a slave to the oar, Yet wafted by thee on the wings of the spirit, Thy haunts by the mountain and stream I explore. I hear, as I listen, the voice of the rill, "Where thou and thy shade are coquetting for ever, Beseeching the wavelets in rain to be still, That leaflet and image may mingle together. Or I see thee on hills where the heather is sweet, And all the day long the lark sings in the skies, Still seeking to lure me, with loving deceit, From the nest were his mate with her little ones lies. "Wild-deer are browsing at ease in the covert, Harebell and daisy buds hide in its shado-w— Breezes are kissing thee fresh from the clover, And bearing thy seed back again to the meadow. Ay. and those breezes my forebea l are fanning; Scenting my hair with the breath of the flowers, And sunbeams unsickened by town-mists are fanning Cheeks so-idea before by the toil of long hours. Hark to that sound the work-bell is ringing Vanish the mountain, the streamlet, and let Mute is the lark or 1 heir not its sinking, And I in my garret gase sadly on thee. Yet short as the dream, it shall not be in vain That it gave me one moment the joys of the free When pining and sad beneath poverty's chain, My soul shall find gladness in gazing on thee. With thee it shall once more revise the clover Shall ait by the stream as it tenderly sighs, j Still hoping and dreaming, life's work-a-dav over, To soar like the lark, and to sing in the skies. —Chambers's Journal.

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