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LIFE is like a summer morning,

When the skies are blue and bright;
While the rosy hours are fleeting,
Little reck we of their flight.
Loving hearts are beating near us,
Loving eyes behold our glee,
Hope and joy are on before us,
And their votaries are we.
We are merry, we are merry,
As the birds that skim the air;
Hope and joy are on before us,
And there's sunshine ev'rywhere.

We have known no touch of sorrow
That a kind word could not quell;
We have never felt the anguish
Of a long and sad farewell.

Through the same green fields we wander,
In the same old house we bide,

With the same dear eyes to watch us,
With the old parental pride.

B

We are happy, we are happy,
In the blessings that we share;
Hope and joy are smiling on us,
And there's sunshine ev'rywhere.

SPRING

BLOSSOMS.

[Music by S. GLOVER.

J. E. CARPENTER.]

Beautiful, beautiful blossoms of spring,
Heralds of gladness, what rapture ye bring,
Giving, as round us your incense ye cast,
Hope for the future and faith in the past;
Types of our childhood, now passing away,
Emblems of happiness though ye decay;
Earth would no fruits own, around us to fling,
But for the beautiful blossoms of spring!

Beautiful buds that in meekness appear,
First-born of all in the happy new year,
Wooing us back to the woods and the fields,
Whence the delight that your innocence yields?
"Tis that we feel when the winter is o'er,
Summer will all that is lovely restore;
Proving we still to the future may cling,
When fading away from the blossoms of spring!

SUMMER ROSES.

J. E. CARPENTER.]

[Music by S. GLOVER.

They are gath'ring summer roses,
But I only seek the shade,

For the sunshine is but fleeting,
And the flowers too soon must fade;
It is sweet to hear their voices
In the calm, clear summer air,
Though for me the time is over,
I might join their frolic there.

Yet I take the flowers they bring me,
For I would not have them see
That a wreath of summer roses
Could bring aught but joy to me.

They are gath'ring summer roses;
They are young, and gay, and fair,
And they think not of the season

That will leave the branches bare;
That each hope they fondly cling to
Soon must fleet and fade away,
As the roses they are culling
Soon will wither and decay.
Yet when youth is round us smiling,
Who would bid it seek the shade,
Though the sunshine is but fleeting,
And the summer roses fade ?

AUTUMN FRUITS.

J. E. CARPENTER.]

[Music by S. GLOVER.

Come buy my fruit, ripe autumn fruit,
Why mourn the buds of spring,

While autumn's bounteous store supplies
Such fruits as these I bring?

Here apples smile whose rosy cheeks
Your own put in the shade,

And blushing peaches seem to court

The lips for which they're made.

Ah! wherefore mourn the buds of spring,
For summer roses sigh,

When autumn trees yield spoils like these?
My fruit, ripe fruit, come buy!

Come, buy my fruit, ripe autumn fruit:
I've melons rich and rare,

I've plums that seem of velvet made,
So soft the bloom they wear;

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