And his face lit up with a smile of joy,

As an angel-dream passed o'er him;

He carved the dream on that shapeless stone,
With many a sharp incision;

With heaven's own light the sculpture shone,→
He had caught that angel vision.

2. Sculptures of Life are we, as we stand
With our souls uncarved before us;
Waiting the hour when at God's command,
Our life-dream passes o'er us.

If we carve it then, on the yielding stone,
With many a sharp incision,
Its heavenly beauty shall be our own,
OUR LIVES, THAT ANGEL VISION.

II.

YEARS AGO.

GEORGE P. MORE.

1. Near the banks of that lone river,
Where the water-lilies grow,
Breathed the fairest flower that ever
Bloomed and faded years ago.
How we met and loved and parted,
None on earth can ever know-
Nor how pure and gentle-hearted
Beamed the mourned one years ago.

2. Like the stream with lilies laden,
Will life's future current flow,
Till in Heaven I meet the maiden,
Fondly cherished years ago.

Hearts that love, like mine, forget not;

They 're the same in weal or woe,
And the star of memory sets not

In the grave of years ago.

III.

FREEDOM OF THE MIND.

WILLIAM LLOYD GARRISON.

High walls and huge the body may confine,
And iron grates obstruct the prisoner's gaze,
And massive bolts may baffle his design,

And vigilant keepers watch his devious ways:
Yet scorns the immortal mind this base control!
No chains can bind it, and no cell inclose:
=) Swifter than light, it flies from pole to pole,

And in a flash from earth to heaven it goes!
It leaps from mount to mount; from vale to vale
It wanders, plucking honeyed fruits and flowers;
It visits home, to hear the fireside tale,

Or, in sweet converse, pass the joyous hours.
"T is up before the sun, roaming afar,

And in its watches wearies every star.

Father in Heaven,

Be our guide to that shore,
Where night never cometh,
Where partings are o'er.

མ.

TRUE WIT.

True wit is like the brilliant stone,
Dug from the Indian mine,
Which boasts two different powers in one,
To cut as well as shine.
Genius, like that, if polished right,

With self-same gifts abounds;
Appears at once both keen and bright,
And sparkles, while it wounds.

VI.

"For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also."Matthew, vi. 21.

1. Thy path, like most by mortal trod,
Will have its thorns and flowers,

Its stony steps, its velvet sod,

Its sunshine and its showers.

BERNARD BARTON.

2. Through smooth and rough, o'er flower and thorn,
Beneath whatever sky,

Still bear thee as a being born
For immortality.

3. And be thy choicest treasures stored
Where Faith may hold the key;
For "where our treasure is," our Lord
Hath said" the heart will be."

VII.

LINES BY A YOUNG LADY BORN BLIND.

1. If this delicious, grateful flower,

Which blows but for a little hour,
Should to the sight so lovely be,
As from its fragrance seems to me,
A sigh must then its color show,
For that's the softest joy I know;
And sure the rose is like a sigh,
Born just to soothe, and then-to die.

2. My father, when our fortune smiled,
With jewels decked his eyeless child;
Their glittering worth the world might see,
But, ah! they had no charms for me;
A trickling tear bedewed my arm,—
I felt it, and my heart was warm ;
And sure the gem to me most dear,
Was a kind father's pitying tear.

VIII.

ODE TO THE LARK.

JAMES HOGG.

1..

Bird of the wilderness,

Blithesome and cumberless,

Sweet be thy matin o'er moorland and lea!
Emblem of happiness,

Blest is thy dwelling-place,—

O, to abide in the desert with thee!

Wild is thy lay and loud,

Far in the downy cloud,

Love gives it energy, love gave it birth,

Where on thy dewy wing

Where art thou journeying!

Thy lay is in heaven, thy love is or earth.

O'er moor and mountain green,

O'er the red streamer that heralds the day,
Over the cloudlet dim,

Over the rainbow's rim,
Musical cherub, soar, singing away!

Then, when the gloaming comes,

Low in the heather blooms,

Sweet will thy welcome and bed of love be!
Emblem of happiness,

Blest is thy dwelling-place,

O, to abide in the desert with thee!

IX.

EPITHALAMIUM.*

1. I saw two clouds at morning,
Tinged with the rising sun;
And in the dawn they floated on,
And mingled into one;

J. G. C. BRAINARD.

I thought that morning cloud was blest,
It moved so sweetly to the west.

2. I saw two Summer currents,

Flow smoothly to their meeting,

And join their course with silent force,

In peace each other greeting;

Calm was their course through banks of green,
While dimpling eddies played between.

3. Such be your gentle motion,

Till life's last pulse shall beat,

Like Summer's beam, and Summer's stream,
Float on, in joy, to meet

A calmer sea, where storms shall cease-
A purer sky, where all is peace.

· EP-I-THA-LA ́·MI-UM, a nuptial song or poem.