But see! at length the clouds above him part,
The light of heaven dawns once more;
The ills that hung so heavy on his heart
Forgotten seem as soon as o'er :
As comes a storm-tost mariner to land,

He comes, his toils and troubles flown ;
Before the world is stretched a little hand,

That fondly, firmly clasps his own.

I

THE TOUCH OF MEMORY.

NEVER watch the evening star

Beam forth upon the dying day,
But what my heart is carried far
To happy scenes now passed away.

I never scent the new-mown hay,
When evening dews upon it fall,
But many a sweet though distant day
My mind responsive will recall.

I never hear the church-bell chimes
Peal out upon the Sabbath air,
But thoughts arise of by-gone times,
And all the joys that flourished there.

Thus many chords of love, that lie

All silent in those hearts of ours,
To memory's tender touch reply,
Regaining all their former pow'rs.

And, at that touch awakening fast,
Though long forgotten and unheard,
The thoughts and feelings of the past
To life and speech once more are stirred.

As some lone harp, that long hath lain
To song untuned, to music still,
When roused by human hands again,
Feels all its inmost spirit thrill :

Neglected and untouched no more,
No more stern silence round it clings;
Its voice sounds tuneful as of yore,

And music swells its trembling strings.

A

THE STORM.

BLINDING mist upon the whirlwind rides,
Mingled of heaven's rain and ocean's spray,

And sea and sky behind its curtain hides,

Save when the lurid gleam of dying day

Breaks through the gathering storm its sudden way,
Glancing upon the sea-gull's snowy plume,
Or on some struggling vessel far away,
Tinging with deeper dye the clouds that loom
Around on every side, one canopy of gloom.

Now all the surface of the angry deep
Rises in foam-topped ridges, huge and tall,
The wild, ungovernable waves, that leap

Like caged wild beasts against the cliff's high wall,
Struggling to burst their bounds, but, baffled all,
Sinking with sullen and sepulchral roar,

Back to their ocean bed in torrents fall,

Then gather up their strength to rise once more,

And break with thundering sound upon the rock-strewn shore.

W

THE CALM.

ITH never-ending movement, strong, but light,
The mighty ocean heaves its massive breast,

As though, the morning after some fierce fight,
There lay a giant warrior at rest.

The pebbly beach, with tangled seaweed drest,
Stretches its glistening strand in one wide sweep,
As the long wave lifts up its curling crest,

Then falls and breaks, far up the shore to creep,
With pleasant, murmuring music, ceaseless, clear, and deep.

The heavens above, bright, beautiful, and blue,
With here and there a fleecy cloud, appear;
The sea beneath rivals the sky in hue,
Far as the eye can range serene and clear.
The gallant ships their stately progress steer,
And to the sun their gleaming sails display;
And, o'er the heaving waters skimming near,
The wild sea-birds pursue their morning prey;
While sun-lit ripples dance upon the peaceful bay.