"a Splendid Sorrow."

'hon Krt 'n pain and yct must Mde thineanguish WlUi lonsly eitence liko tomo wounded bird; And Hiou art Bad- so Bad-and yet to chcer , thee, I.larc not whisnerone pnor llttle WOTÜJ Ah, nn! 1 may not, na i" iUya oí' ol'len- A uil ton ilaik.y drop .livi.les us now- Cali to that check, tlic üb'ut ana g'ow of gladness, Oikiss the shadows fnm that eirlish brow. Uuaecn, witli yearning pity now I watcli thee; Givp je-t tor jest, and smilcs lljh lip thy f;ice, Whilc ti-.'i-s are trembling tino' thy silver laugbter, Anilbobs ave snrRiiiR'neath tliy coatlv lac. Uíjayeit marvel at thy gr.ice and brightiifas, And envimis thoughts stir manya gentío l.renst; Theydrcam not all tliis gloss nnd shimraer ■ lii eili A heavt whose sadness ncvcr knows a restl T!iou art as lonely 'inld Ihis l'eslive gftth'ring a'Iio'riri-.lcil tliuswilh nicrry jest and sinile, Astho' thy tiiutl loot ulone ure wandeiTOg, 'Aloni; tanglsd bnxinblesin some descit ilu; And ihou .irt wcihled- yct alone tor ever- Alono with.all thy pain nnd innto despair- lie can ncvcr lift Ihy burden, weary, Nor one dreaui of ihy youug lite ever sliarc! Al), Blirely, Maudc, is thine a Biilendid sorrow - Glad imisio rippling through its d..rkcst heurs, It3tcars with itrcenof dnzzilng jnwelssildcl; lts siitha perfumea with scent of rarest flowera. TUp world enjovs the wonder of thy beauty, Jiut ah! heyond, it oravea to own no part: Wbatrerks it if the bloom bc fair and soented, 'l'liat cruel wornis pn:rat its tender heurt?