Thou hast given to death the tender bloom,
A mother's priceless flower,

And borne the maid to the solemn tomb,

In youth's unclouded hour;

And thou hast given life to countless things,
To feather the New Year's youthful wings.

Old year! thou hast trod life's furrow'd sod,
And sown thy fructile seed,

And now-a missive is sent from God,

To bid thy death-throb speed;

But the New Year from thy womb has birth,
To strew his few measur'd sands o'er earth.

A child at the breast of time we see,
The New Year nourish life,

To pave the shores of eternity,
With fruits of love and strife;

His hairs will soon like his sire's get grey, 'Till death shall secure him for his prey.

Roll thou ceaseless monitors of death
On time's majestic wheel,

That Freedom may breathe thy failing breath,
And man its blessings feel;

For deep in the margin scroll of fate
Is fix'd, by a hand divine, its date.

WINTER.

The wind blows bleakly over the hills,

And drizzily falls the rain;

Winter hath leap'd from the Autumn's grave,

Over the world his sceptre to wave,

To harden the glebe, and freeze the rills,
A monarch o'er all to reign.

He rides on the clouds that robe the night,
And chillily fans the morn,

Over the billowy ocean flies,

Up mountain summits that reach the skies, Fearlessly on with resistless might,

As if he alone were born.

He heeds not the sapling fruits of love,

Nor blossoms of summer's care;

But on he goes, with his freezing wand,

Retaining the yet unfinished bond,

With nature's eternal pow'r above,

As a season of the year.

The winged minstrel forgets the song
It sang in the summer time;

And the forest trees have lost their leaves,

And the corn fields bear no ripen'd sheaves,

For winter hath touch'd the weak and strong,
With his mystic wand sublime.

LINES

ADDRESSED TO A LITTLE GIRL.

There's beauty decks thy winning face,

Thou sweetly modest child,

No studied arts thy actions grace,

But nature undefil'd

Doth shine, with lustre pure and bright,

To win the heart from sin,

And tinge the soul with love's delight,
Oppress'd by Mammon's din.

Unconscious of the world's alarms,
The present only seems,

To hold thee in its fondling arms,

And please thy life with dreams.

No future, save to-morrow, weds
The prospect of thy soul;
Thy life, of joy an emblem, speds
Above all base control.

Oh! blissful ecstacy divine,

What soul on this wide earth Doth feel no sweet affections twine Around its ideal girth,

When childlhood's artless beauty claims
Affection's loving care,

And with its prattling gladness aims
To drive away despair?

THE ANGEL'S KISS.

Her eyes were closed in sleep,
In beauty's arms she lay,
An infant slum'bring deep,
In dream-land's lovely bay.

Her thoughts were sweetly bright,

Unclog'd by earthly ties,

Her soul in pure delight,

Felt no heart-heaving sighs.

Her little life, that gave

To innocence and mirth,

Beauty and truth to save,

From all that saddens earth,

Was borne on wings of love,
In sleep's encircling arms,

To roam the world above,

And view angelic charms,

She stood, in her sweet dream,
In lovely infant coy,
Beside a well-known stream,
Entranc'd in wond'rous joy!

When lo! an angel came,

And touch'd her little hand,
The stream seem'd all a flame,
The angel brightly grand.

Oh! what seraphic bliss

She felt in one short hour;

The angel came to kiss,

And then desert her bower.

She saw it gently pass,
And wave its glitt'ring crest,

The stream appear'd like glass,
And love, with holier zest,

Supremely gave command:

Her throbbing soul was blest,
And duty took her hand,
As waking she confest,

The angel's kiss divine;
And felt her bosom glow,
With Jewels from the mine,
Of truth and love below!

I LOVE THE PLEASANT SUNSHINE.

I love the pleasant Sunshine! where e'er I see its rays,
For it bringeth back to memory scenes of bygone days;
When a child I oft would stray, beneath the old oak's shade,

To watch its playful smiles athwart the forest glade;
And when, in youthful pride, I stroll'd o'er meadows gay,
Thro' coverts thick-up mountains' cragged way-

It ever cast its genial influence around,

And a place within my heart the Sunshine always found.

I love the pleasant Sunshine! where'er I turn my eyes,
I trace its beauty in the earth, I trace it in the skies.
The meanest insect on the sod, that lifts its tiny head--
Ev'ry golden flower enshrin'd within its bed-
Alike proclaim the Sun's effulgent glory dear,
Diffusing warmth when chilly frosts appear!

And as the Sun breaks forth, ever welcome in the morn,
It lightens human sorrow, and cheers the heart forlorn.

I love the pleasant Sunshine! whate'er may be more dear,
It causeth joy to fill the breast, when misery comes near;
It gleams upon the aged man, borne down by time's design,
Who must, 'ere long, to death his drooping life resign.
It ne'er neglects its ever glist'ning rays to fling
O'er Summer, Winter, Autumn, and o'er Spring.

I love the pleasant Sunshine, it plays a holy part,

It smiles thro' the clouds of day, and cheers the human heart.

LINES

Written for a Friend on the death of his Brother, caused by a railway train running over him whilst he was in a state of inebriation.

Oh, life! with all the hopes and fears that sail adown its sea, Hath not a sweet more luscious than the thought that pictures thee;

When in thy youthful gladness, like a being free from care,
Thy frolicsome and artless ways would drive away despair.
The scroll of memory is unroll'd, I plainly view the past,
And sunny smiles like golden dreams flit on my vision fast;
Thou wert the image of myself, my brother ever kind,
And love enthron'd upon thy heart gave beauty to thy mind.
'Tis sweet to view thee in thy youth, ere manhood cast a shade,
To darken hope and bid thy life like broken flowerets fade;
In summer hours, when school delights were wafted with the
day,

We'd often loiter in the fields or wander far away;

We loved to watch beside the sea, the monster steam-boat ply, And while we thought not of the time, the hours flew quickly by.