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I found it the source of an exquisite pleasure,

The purest and sweetest that nature can yield. How ardent I seized it, with hands that were glowing,

And quick to the white-pebbled bottom it fell; Then soon with the emblem of truth overflowing,

And dripping with coolness, it rose from the well. The old oaken bucket, the iron-bound bucket,

The moss-covered bucket arose from the well.

How sweet from the green mossy brim to receive it,

As poised on the curb, it inclined to my lips ! Not a full-blushing goblet could tempt me to leave it,

Though filled with the nectar that Jupiter sips. And now, far removed from that loved situation,

The tear of regret will intrusively swell, As fancy reverts to my father's plantation,

And sighs for the bucket that hangs in the well The old oaken bucket, the iron-bound bucket,

The moss-covered bucket that hangs in the well.

HOME, SWEET HOME.

JOHN HOWARD PAYNE.

’Mid pleasures and palaces though we may roam,
Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home!
A charm from the skies seems to hallow us there,
Which, seek through the world, is ne'er met with else-

where.

Home, home, sweet home!
There's no place like home!

An exile from home, splendor dazzles in vain :
Ah, give me my lowly thatched cottage again!
The birds singing sweetly that come at my call —
Give me them, and that peace of mind, dearer than all.

Home, home, sweet home!
There's no place like home!

FAREWELL ADVICE.

CHARLES KINGSLEY.

FAREWELL, dear child, I have no song to give thee.

No lark could pipe to skies so dull and gray:
But ere we part one lesson I would leave thee,

For every day.
Be good, sweet maid, and let who will be clever.

Do noble things, not dream them all day long; And so make life, death, and that vast forever,

One grand, sweet song.

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LIFE! we have been long together,
Through pleasant and through cloudy weather.
'Tis hard to part when friends are dear;
Perhaps 'twill cost a sigh, a tear;
Then steal away, give little warning,
Choose thine own time;
Say not “Good-night,” but in some brighter clime
Bid me “Good-morning.”

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NATURE.

PLAYTIME AND MEMORY RHYMES.

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