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INFIDELITY.

NO WRITER ATTRIBUTED

HOW often in some rapturous mood,

When nature seemed most fair, have I

Looked up with gladness to the sky

And thought men beautiful and good.

And when the day was bright at birth,

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Nor clouds nor darkness hindering,

I strove with upturned face to sing

Of nature, and its charms on earth.

But soon the night, the mournful rain,

Were mingled with the moaning wind; -

My lyre with discord was entwined,

And I would curse the world again.

So when I saw how human art

Made friendship but a treacherous veil,

My lyre was shattered by the gale; -

And burst my too confiding heart!

L. L. E.

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