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POEMS.
Tall trees, pointing upward, breathe softly of heaven,
While from scent-laden breezes this message is given:
Come, worship in Nature's grand temple to-day,
On her moss-covered altars thy thank-offering lay.

Oh! fair Winnisquam, in thy waves' gentle flow,
I seem to hear voices I heard long ago;
They whisper of crystal sea, laving that shore,
"Where the loved from the loving ones part nevermore.