On the Birman sea was her shadow cast,

As it lay like molten gold,

I love thy dim, majestic car, With no moon lighting by,

Seemed twice on the waters told.

The idle canvass slowly swung

As the spicy breeze went by,

And strange, rare music around her rung From the palm-tree growing nigh.

Oh, gallant ship, thou didst bear with thee

The gay and the breaking heart,
And weeping eyes looked out to see
Thy white-spread sails depart.
And when the rattling casement told
Of many a perilled ship,
The anxious wife her babes would fold,
And pray with trembling lip.

The petrel wheeled in her stormy flight,
The wind piped shrill and high;
On the topmast sat a pale-blue light,

That flickered not to the eye:
The black cloud came like a banner down,
And down came the shrieking blast;
The quivering ship on her beams is thrown
And gone are helm and mast!

Helmless, but on before the gale,

She ploughs the deep-troughed wave: A gurgling sound a phrensied wail And the ship hath found a grave! And thus is the fate of the acorn told,

That fell from the old oak-tree, And HE OF THE SHELL in the frosty mould Preserved for its destiny.

NIGHT.

,,Some who had early mandates to depart, Yet are allowed to steal my path athwart."

Wordsworth.

THRICE welcome, solemn, thoughtful Night,
With the cool and shadowy wing;
For visions, beautiful and bright,

Thou dost to fancy bring

And then the mental eye I turn,
Thy kingdom, soul, to view,
For higher progress eager burn,
And onward strength renew.

And the heavens look deep and high And o'er me seem thy wings to brood With a protecting love, And I nestle in thy solitude,

Like a stricken, wearied dove.

I bless thee for each hallow'd thought,
Which thou, oh! Night, dost bring
Thy quiet, with high teachings fraught,
While round me seems to ring
The music of the better land,

And gentle watch to keep,
The presence of a guardian band
Is round me while I sleep.

And soothingly, oh! Night, dost thou Departed ones restore

I see each fair and peaceful brow

With their loving looks once more, Alas, the loved and gentle ones,

They pass from earth away, And pleasantly we hear their tones, When the midnight shadows play.

We feel their holy presence near,
Their gentle pressure feel,
Their words of whisper'd comfort hear,
And angel-like appeal;
And every struggle for the right
They smilingly approve,
And arm us doubly for the fight,
With spirit-faith and love.

Oh! holy Night, thou bringst to me
Bright visions of the past,
And pleasant dreams are born of thee,
And from thy pinions cast.
No fancies dark, no terrors wild
Come hovering round my bed.
But peaceful as a wearied child
I rest my aching head.

THE APRIL RAIN.

THE April rain! the April rain!
I hear the pleasant sound,
Now soft and still, like gentle dew,
Now drenching all the ground.

,,I AM a Pebble! and yield to none!" Were the swelling words of a tiny stone ,,Nor time nor seasons can alter me; I am abiding, while ages flee. The pelting hail and the drizzling rain Have tried to soften me, long, in vain; And the tender dew has sought to melt Or touch my heart; but it was not felt. There's none that can tell about my birth, For I 'm as old as the big, round earth. The children of men arise, and pass

And many a foot on me has trod,
That 's gone from sight, and under the sod.
I am a Pebble! but who art thou,
Rattling along from the restless bough?"

The Acorn was shocked at this rude salute, And lay for a moment abashed and mute; She never before had been so near

This gravelly ball, the mundane sphere;
And she felt for a time at a loss to know
How to answer a thing so coarse and low.
But to give reproof of a nobler sort
Than the angry look, or the keen retort,
At length she said, in a gentle tone,

From the lighter element where I grew,
Down to another so hard and new,
And beside a personage so august,
Abased, I will cover my head with dust,
And quickly retire from the sight of one
Whom time, nor season, nor storm, nor sun,
Nor the gentle dew, nor the grinding heel,
Has ever subdued, or made to feel!"
And soon in the earth she sank away
From the comfortless spot where the Pebble
lay.

But it was not long ere the soil was broke
By the peering head of an infant oak!
And, as it arose, and its branches spread,
The Pebble looked up, and, wondering, said,
,,A modest Acorn never to tell
What was enclosed in its simple shell!
That the pride of the forest was folded up
In the narrow space of its little cup!
And meekly to sink in the darksome earth,
Which proves that nothing could hide her
worth!

And, oh! how many will tread on me,
To come and admire the beautiful tree,
Whose head is towering toward the sky,
Above such a worthless thing as I!
Useless and vain, a cumberer here,
I have been idling from year to year.
But never from this, shall a vaunting word
From the humbled Pebble again be heard,
Till something without me or within
Shall show the purpose for which I've been!"
The Pebble its vow could not forget,
And it lies there wrapped in silence yet.

Then, as, down to ocean glancing, In the waves his rays are dancing,' Think how long the night will be To the eyes that weep for thee!

When the lonely night watch keeping
All below thee still and sleeping
As the needle points the quarter
O'er the wide and trackless water,
Let thy vigils ever find thee
Mindful of the friends behind thee!
Let thy bosom's magnet be
Turned to those who wake for thee!

When, with slow and gentle motion,
Heaves the bosom of the ocean
While in peace thy bark is riding,
And the silver moon is gliding
O'er the sky with tranquil splendor,
Where the shining hosts attend her:
Let the brightest visions be
Country, home, and friends, to thee!

When the tempest hovers o'er thee,
Danger, wreck, and death, before thee,
While the sword of fire is gleaming,
Wild the winds, the torrent streaming,
Then, a pious suppliant bending,
Reach the mercy seat, to be
Let thy thoughts, to Heaven ascending,

Met by prayers that rise for thee!

And, whether our breath be loud or high,
Or come in a soft and balmy sigh,
Our threatenings fill the soul with fear,
Or our gentle whisperings woo the ear
With music aerial, still 't is we.

And ye list and ye look; but what do ye

see?

And over each pane, like a fairy, crept; Wherever he breathed, wherever he stept, By the light of the morn, were seen Most beautiful things: there were flowers and trees; There were bevies of birds, and swarms of bees; There were cities, with temples and towers and these

All pictured in silver sheen!

peace,

Or waken one note when our numbers cease?

Our dwelling is in the Almighty's hand;
We come and we go at his command.
Though joy or sorrow may mark our track,
His will is our guide, and we look not back:
And if, in our wrath ye would turn us
away,

Or win us in gentle airs to play,
Then lift up your hearts to Him who binds
Or frees, as he will, the obedient winds.

there

That all had forgotten for him to prepare

,,Now, just to set them a-thinking, I'll bite this basket of fruit," said he, ,This costly pitcher I'll burst in three; And the glass of water they 've left for me Shall,tchick! to tell them I'm drinking."

THE SNOWFLAKE.

THE FROST.

THE Frost looked forth one still, clear night, And whispered,,, Now I shall be out of

sight:

,,Now, if I fall, will it be my lot
To be cast in some lone and lowly spot,
To melt, and to sink unseen, or forgot?
And there will my course be ended?"
'T was this a feathery Snowflake said,
As down through measureless space it strayed,
Or as, half by dalliance, half afraid,
It seemed in mid air suspended.

not lie

Neglected and lone on my lap to die, Thou pure and delicate child of the sky! For thou wilt be safe in my keeping.

Then he flew to the mountain and powder'd
its crest;
He lit on the trees, and their boughs he
drest

In diamond beads; and over the breast
Of the quivering lake he spread

A coat of mail, that it need not fear
The downward point of many a spear
That he hung on its margin, far and near,
Where a rock could rear its head.

Thou wilt not be a part of the wintry storm, But revive, when the sunbeams are yellow and warm. And the flowers from my bosom are peeping!

skies,

To shine in the Iris I'll let thee arise,
And appear in the many and glorious dyes
A pencil of sunbeams is blending!
But true, fair thing, as my name is Earth,
I'll give thee a new and vernal birth,
When thou shalt recover thy primal worth,
And never regret descending!"

Like the spirit that dwells in the holiest

heart,

Unsullied by thee, thou wilt let me depart,
And return to my native heaven.
For I would be placed in the beautiful bow,
From time to time, in thy sight to glow;
So thou mayst remember the Flake of Snow
By the promise that God hath given!"