Book 2 — LINES ON SOME VIOLETS,

LEFT UPON MY DESK WHILE I WAS AT A FUNERAL.

He brought these violets yester eve,

While I was with the dead,

And when I hither came to grieve,

To me they meekly said—

“Let not thy gentle heart-founts flow

For her who is at rest,

But joy and sing for all who go

To sit among the Blest.

“Weep for thyself, and not for her,

Child of melodious Grief!

And pray thy angels, hovering near,

To make Life’s journey brief.

“For now we hear thy spirit beat

With bleeding plumes its grate,

And treading with impatient feet,

Like one that could not wait.

“Like one who, pale ’mid dungeon gloom,

Paces his scanty floor,

Awaiting till the jailer come

To ope his prison-door!”

E. ANNA LEWIS.

Painted by J. Martin

THE DESTRUCTION OF SODOM AND GOMORRAH.