IANTHE.

IANTH E.

I.

THE Morn's grey clouds were lingering in the sky,— Still on the sleeping flowers the dew-drops lay,And, save the wild lark's carol from on high, Pouring a welcome to the earliest ray

That came as herald of a cloudless day, No sound was heard;-deep silence reigned around, When forth Ianthe went,-awhile to stray,

Lone and unheeded, o'er the sacred ground

Where those she loved the best their latest home had

found.

B

II.

She bent in silent prayer above the dead,
Long lost, but cherished by fond memory yet;
And many were the bitter tears she shed,

And wild, enduring,-deep,-her vain regret
For those her soul nor could, nor would forget,
Ere she could nerve her spirit to go forth,-

A seal upon her heart's best feelings set,Henceforth to be a wanderer o'er the earth, Smiling on all she met, though sharing not their mirth.

She had drank deeply of the cup of woe,

And her young heart had felt the blighting care Which damps too soon affection's trusting glow,Destroys the flowers which hope had planted there, And leaves the soul a prey to dark despair;— And though her spirit strove to break the chain,

That it might once more in Earth's gladness share, She found the struggle still was made in vain,Though severed for a time, its links would join again!