Come to the Sun-set Tree!
The day is past and gone;
The woodman's axe lies free,
And the reaper's work is done.
Yes: tuneful is the sound
That dwells in whispering boughs:
Welcome the freshness round,
And the gale that fans our brows.
But rest more sweet and still
Than ever night-fall gave,
Our longing hearts shall fill,
In the world beyond the grave.
There shall no tempest blow,
No scorching noon-tide heat;
There shall be no more snow,
No weary wandering feet.
And we lift our trusting eyes,
From the hills our fathers trod.
To the quiet of the skies,
To the sabbath of our God.
Come to the Sun-set Tree!
The day is past and gone:
The woodman's axe lies free,
And the reaper's work is done.
We have only room to particularize the _Boroom Slave_, by Mrs. Bowditch;
the _Magician's Visiter_, by Neele; and _Scenes in the Life of a
Favourite_; all which possess very powerful interest. Mr. Hood, too,
has two oddities--_Death in the Kitchen_, after Sterne, and the
_Logicians_, accompanied by engravings. Indeed, the literary variety
of the present _Forget Me Not_ is highly creditable to the editor, Mr.
Shoberl.
* * * * *
_Friendship's Offering_.
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