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Creator: Battersby, H. S. (Hannah S.), -1887?
Translator: -
Contributor: -
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Live on for evermore. Wealth may attract and pleasure lure When far away we roam; But ah! how joyful we return To the pure shrine of home. There we find sweet repose and peace, There too our holiest love; And there we gain a foretaste pure Of coming joys above. Then "Home, sweet home," shall be our song On earth, and when on high 'Twill still be home, dear, happy home, In the glad "by-and-by." * * * * * IT IS BUT A FADED ROSEBUD.
The Atheist\'s Mass

THE ATHEIST'S MASS BY HONORE DE BALZAC Translated by Clara Bell This is dedicated to Auguste Borget by his friend De Balzac Bianchon, a physician to whom science owes a fine system of theoretical physiology, and who, while still young, made himself a celebrity in the medical school of Paris, that central luminary to which European doctors
It is but a lone faded rosebud That a dearly loved one gave to me, In years now long past but remembered And shrined for the years yet to be. It opens the floodgates of memory, Discoursing of dear days gone by, Dead and buried except to rememb'rance Which never can slumber or die. For hearts that have once truly mingled, In sympathy, love and esteem, Can never be really sundered Though oceans and seas roll between. And still I will cherish my rosebud, Though it never may bloom to a flower, As a symbol of love that was strangled In life's saddest yet happiest hour. * * * * *