Tears starting,

At parting

Oh! sweet youth, how soon it fades,
Sweet joys of youth, how fleeting!

HEAR me

HEAR ME BUT ONCE.

AIR-French.

but once, while o'er thy grave,
In which our love lies cold and dead,
I count each flatt'ring hope he gave
Of joys now lost aud charms now fled.

Who could have thought the smile he wore,
When first we met, would fade away?

Or that a chill would e'er come o'er
Those eves, so bright through many a day.

THE END.