I f you or I Tn-day should díe, T!ie birds would sing as sweet to-morrow ; _ The vernal springlïcr tlowers would bring1, __ And fcw would tlunk ai' us with sorrowr. "Yes, heisrfead," Would thcn be said ; The corn would floss, the grass yield hay, The cattle low, The smnmers go, And few would heed us pass away. How soon we pass ! I low lew, alas ! Itcnicmber those who turn to moulil I W'hosc faces fade With autumu's shade, Beneath the sodded church-yard cold. Yes, it is só- We come, we go - They liail our birth, thy inourn us deat! : A day or more, The winters o'er, Another takes our place instead.