"1 hear thee speak of the better land, Thou call'st its children a happy band; Mother! oh where is that radian t shore? Shall we not Beek it and weep no more? la it where the flower of the orange blows, And the fireöies glance through the myrtl boughs?" - "Not there, not there, my child!" "Is it where the feathery palm trees rise, And the date grows ripe under sunny skies? Or midRt the green inlands of glittering seas Where fragrant foresta perfume the breeze, And strange, bright birds on their starry wing Bear the rich hues of all glorious things?" - 'Not there, not there, my child!1' Is it far away in nome región oíd, Where the rivera wander o'er sands of gold ? - Whero the burning rays of the ruby shine, And the diamond lights up the secret mine, And the pearl gleams forth from the cora strand ? Ia it there, sweet mother, that better land?" - "Not there not there, my child !" Eye hath not seen it, my gentle boy ! Ear hath not heard its deep Bozigs of joy ; Dreams cannot picture a world so fair - Sorrow and death may not enter there; Time doth not breathc on ita fadeless bloom Beyond the clouds and beyond the tomb, - It is there, it ia there, my child!"