Whether my lieart be glad or no, The summers come, the nummers go. The lonen grow dark with dying leaves ; luirles hang beneath the eaves ; The nsters wither to the snow. Thus doth the sumraer end and go, Whether my Ufe be glad or no. Whether my Hfe be sad or no, The winters come, the winters go, The sunshine plays with the baby leaves ; Swallows buihl a bout the eaves ; The lovely wind ñowers bend and blow ; Thus doth the winter end and go, "VVhether my life be sad or no. Yet Mother Nature gires to me A fond and patiënt sympathy ; In my o ra neart I find the charm To make her tender, near and warm ; Through summer sunshine, winter snoK", She clasps me, sad or glad or no. - Ilarper's Magazine.