The Albany register. [volume] (Albany, Or.) 1868-18??, 1874-11-06

TFs full of human brightness, such
As makes remembrance sweet
Fiat leagues of endless meadows
(In Holland lies the scene),
Y here many pollard shadows
Ger nut-t1rown bitches lean;
Gray clouds above that never break,
MIstS the pale sunbeams stripe,
With groups of steaming cattle, mako
4 landscape - after Cuyp.''
\ windmill, and below it
"A cottage near a road,
" here some meek pastoral poet
Might make glad abode;
A cottage with garden, where
Pr1En squares of pansies grow,
And, sitting on q garden-chair,
a dame with locks of snow.
In trim black, trussed and bodiced,
With Yetticoat of red,
And on her bosom modest
i keTchief white hespread
Alas! the breast that heayes below
Is shFiveled now and thin
Though Eestal thoughts as white as snow
stan palpitate within.
Her hands are mittened nicely,
And folded on her knee
Her lips, that meet precisely,
Are moving quietly.
She listens while the dreamy bells
Ger the dark fats intone-
New come, now gone, in dying sweIIs
The Sabbath-sounds are blown.
Her cheek withered rose is,
Her eye violet dim
Half in her chair she dozes
And huns happy hymn.
But soft what wonder makes her start
And lift her aged head,
While the faint futteriugs of her heart
lust touch h er cheeks with red ?
The latch clicks through the gateway
An aged wight steps slow,
Then pauses, dofhng straightway
HIS broad-brimEned gay chapeaui
Swsllow-tailed coat of blue so grand,
With buttons bright beside,
BE wears. and in his trembling hand
a aosegay, ribbon-tied.
His thin old legs trip lightly
Ia breeches of nankeen,
HIS wrinkled face looks brightly,
So rosy, fresh, and clean;
Eor old he is and wrinkled plain,
With locks of golden gray,
And leaning on q tasseled cane,
He mobiles on his way,
Oh, sky-lark, singing over
The silent mill hard by,
To this so happy lover
Sing out with summer-cryi
He hears thee, though hls blood is cold,
She hears, though deaf and weak;
SAe STANDS TO greet MIN, as Of old,
A blush upon her cheek.
In Spring-time they we're parted
BY some sad wind of woe:
Forlorn and broken-hearted
Each faltered, long ago;
They parted: half a century
Each took the path of pain
He lived bachelor, and she
Was never wooed again.
But when the Summer ended,
When Autumn, too, was dead,
When every vision splendid
Of youth and hope was fed,
Again those twain came face to face
As III the long ago;
They met within a sunless place
In the:season of the snow.
81 Oh love IS like the roses,
Love comes and love must feel
Before the summer closes
Loves rapture and loves giee :"
Oh peace for in the garden there
He bows in raiment gay,
DOTS hat. and with courtly air
Presents his fond bouquet.
One day in every seven,
While ehurch-belis softly ring.
The happy, silent heaysn
Beholds the sef-ssme thing:
The gay old boy within the gate,
With ribbons at his knee
= " nen winter comes IS love too late
o Cupid, look and see
Oh, talk not of loves rapture,
When youthful lovers kiss
What mortal sight may capture
A scene so sweet as .his
Beside her now he sits and glows,
While prim she sits, and proud,
Then. Epectacles upon his nose.
Reads the weeks news aloud!
Pure, with no touch of passion,
True, with no Jinge of pain ::
Thus, in sweet Sabbath-fashion,
They live their love again.
She sees in him a happy boy
Swift, agile, araorouR-eyed;
He sees in her his own hearts Joy
Youth, hope, love Yivifed!
Content there he sits smoking
His long Dutch pipe of wood;
Gossiping oft ana joking,
As gay lover should,
And oft. while there in company
They smile for loves sweet sake,
Her snuH-box black she hands, and he
A grave, deep pinch doth taks!
There, gravely jnvenescent,
In Eooer Sabbath-joy,
Mingling the past and present,
They sit, maid and boyi
81 Oh, love is like the roses I'-No!
Thou foolish singer, ceasei
Love finds his freside mid the snow,
And smokes the pipe of peace!
entgeqna,l's Magazine.