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...Well, he surely does look better :" but ah ! our heavenly Father's thoughts and ways are not as ours. "Leaves have their time to fall, And flowers to wither at the north wind's breath, And stars to set — but all, Thou hast all seasons for thine own, oh ! death."...

...addressed include the whole adulterated) population of these commercial realms ! Z. THE HOUR OF DEATH. LEAVES have their time to fall, And flowers to wither...all, Thou hast all seasons for thine own, oh, Death ! Day is for mortal care, Eve for glad meetings round the joyous hearth, Night for the dreams of sleep,...

...things too glorious for decay, And smile at thce ! — but thou art not of those That wait the ripen'd bloom to seize their prey! Leaves have their time to fall, And flowers to wither at the North-wind'» breath, And stars to set — but all, Thou hast all seasons for thine own, oh, Death...

...addressed include the whole adult (crated) population of these commercial realms ! Z. THE HOUR OF DEATH. LEAVES have their time to fall, And flowers to wither at the North-wind'« breath, And stars to set — but all, Thou hast all seasons for thine own, oh, Death...

...dawn began death's dread progress, and the harvest of this Great Reaper extends over all the year. " Leaves have their time to fall, And flowers to wither, at the north wind's breath, And stara to set — but all, Thou hast all seasons for thine own, O death !"...

...things too glorious for decay, And smile at thee ! — but thou art not of those That wait the ripen'd bloom to seize their prey '. Leaves have their time...— but all, Thou hast all seasons for thine own, O death. We know when moons shall wane, When summer birds from far shall cross the sea, When autumn's...

...— and thou art there. Thou art where friend meets friend, Beneath the shadow of the elm to rest — Leaves have their time to fall, And flowers to wither...all, Thou hast all seasons for thine own, oh ! Death. THE RELEASE OF TASSO. THERE came a bard to Rome ; he brought a lyre Of sounds to peal through Rome's...

...press'd The wounds, to stanch their tide — Unknown, on that meek humble breast, THE HOUR OF DEATH. LEAVES have their time to fall, And flowers to wither...all, Thou hast all seasons for thine own, oh ! Death. Day is for mortal care, Eve for glad meetings round the joyous hearth, Night for the dreams of sleep,...

...things too glorious for decay, And smile at thee—but thou art not of those That wait the ripen'd bloom to seize their prey. Leaves have their time to fall, And flowers to wither at the north-wind's hreath, And stars to set—but all, Thou hast all seasons for thine own, oh! Death. We know when moons...