The Lambertville press. [volume] (Lambertville, N.J.) 1858-1???, 1861-05-29
Sl5|ggistellang.-
rom the Doylestown Democrat.
May Flowrets.
GATHERED BY LIZZIE LEE.

- Low as the grave is you cannot climb
high enough to see beyond it.
He who can suppress moments anger,
may prevent many days sorrow.
IF We could read the secret history of our
enemies, we should find in each mans life, sor
row and suffering enough to disarm all our hos
Utilities.
Many beauteous flower decays,
Though we may tend it e'er so much,
Something secret on it preys,
Which no human aid can touch.
The NJ blest remedy for injuries, is obliv-
ion. Light injuries are made none by not re-
garding them.
Contemplate the works of God, and thou
wilt learn thine own insgnfcance.
Beaming light through tender leaves,
Mellow blissful glory weaves.
Scented moss and bending spray,
Wavelets thrilling all the day,
Fitting bird and jewelled fly,
Flowrets' fragrance wandering by,
Echoed cadence softly blending
Joy to all its grace is lending.
love The king of words An inexpress-
ible passion volume in word-a whirlwind
in a sigh--an ocean in tear-a millennium in a
moment.
The Cradle is the little pilot boat of hu-
manity-wherein the young navigator on the
sea of life takes passage.
Burns never sang sweeter heart words
than these:
Then gently sean your brother man;
Still gentler, sister woman,
Tho they may gang kennin wrang
To step. aside is human.
Water that flows from a spring does not
CONCEAL in winter; and those sentiments of
friendship which flow from the heart cannot be
frozen in adversely.
Why stir the ashes of the past, why breath upon
the emhers
Years bo v the frame and gray the head, but
still the soul remembers.
IF motives were always visible, men
would often blush at their most brilliant ac-
tions.
He conqucrs twice who restraints Himself
in victory.
How brightly do little joys beam upon a
soul which stlnds on a ground darkened by
sorrow So do stars come forth from the emp
ty sky, when we look up to them from deep
we'll
Now rings the woodland loud and long,
The distance takes a lovelier hue,
And drowned in yonder living blue,
The lark becomes sightless song.
Thine wears slippers of list, and his tread
is noisless The days come softly dawning, one
after another; they creep in at the windows ;
their morning air is grateful to the lips that
pant for it their music is sweet to the ear that
listens to it-until, before we know it, whole
life of days has possession of tie citadel, and
Time has taken us for its own.
There is sacredness in tears. They
are not the mark of weakness, but of power
They are the messengers Of overwhelming
grief, of deep contrition and the ripples of a
voorhees, love.
The primrose and wood-Violet
May tanples in her shining hair
And teaches efn breezes fair
To sing her some sweet canzonet.
Youth and the lark have their song
prisons for the morning age and the nightin-
gale their vesper hymns in the evening.
No more supine, while traitorous foes
Trampled her rights, her prowess mock,
But, reused for Battles rudest shock,
WhenSNmter fell the North arose
Wild Flowssrssare the alphabet of angels
whereby they write on hills and fields mys-
teriOus truths.
People talk about the equality of sexes
they are not equal. The silent smile of sem
sibe, loving woman will vanquish ten men.
Whenever treason dare assaiI
Our flag with rude rebellions hand
Millions of freemen shall arise,
Mnerva-lke, through all the land.
Hope writes the po' try of the boy, but
memory that of the man. We look forward
with smiles-but backward with signs The
cup of life Is sweetest at the brim--the flavor
is impaired as we drink deeper-and the dregs
are made bitter that we may not struggle when
it is taken from our lips.