Volume 32 / Part 15 — ELSIE.

BY KATE DASHWOOD.

A young white rose-bud—with its leaves Just blown apart, and wet with dew— A fair child in a garland weaves 'Mid glowing flowers of every hue. She sitteth by the rushing river, While the soft and balmy air Scarce stirs the starry flowers that quiver Amid her sunny hair— Thou of the laughing eyes! 'mid all The roses of thy coronal— Thou'rt fairest of the fair. Ah, bright young dreamer! may thy heart In its early freshness ever be Pure as the leaves—just blown apart— Of the rose thou'rt wreathing in childish glee. Ah, well I know those flowers thou'rt twining For thy fair pale mother dear— For the love-light in those blue eyes shining Is shadowed by a tear; And thy thoughts are now in that dim, hushed room— With the sad, sweet smile, and the fading bloom— Thou'rt all too young to fear.