SONNET-OCTOBER.

Ay, thou art welcome, heaven's delicious breath!
When woods begin to wear the crimson leaf,

And suns grow meek, and the meek suns grow brief
And the year smiles as it draws near its death.
Wind of the sunny south! oh, still delay

In the gay woods and in the golden air,

Like to a good old age released from care,

Journeying, in long serenity, away.

In such a bright, late quiet, would that I

Might wear out life like thee, 'mid bowers and brooks
And dearer yet, the sunshine of kind looks,

And music of kind voices ever nigh;

And when my last sand twinkled in the glass,

Pass silently from men, as thou dost pass.

SONNET-NOVEMBER.

YET one smile more, departing, distant sun!
One mellow smile through the soft vapoury air,
Ere, o'er the frozen earth, the loud winds run,
Or snows are sifted o'er the meadows bare.
One smile on the brown hills and naked trees,

And the dark rocks whose summer wreaths are cast,

And the blue Gentian flower, that, in the breeze,
Nods lonely, of her beauteous race the last.
Yet a few sunny days, in which the bee

Shall murmur by the hedge that skirts the way,

The cricket chirp upon the russet lea,

And man delight to linger in thy ray.

Yet one rich smile, and we will try to bear

The piercing winter frost, and winds, and darkened air

A MEDITATION ON RHODE ISLAND COAL

Decolor, obscuris, vilis, non ille repexam
Cesariem regum, non candida virginis ornat
Colla, nec insigni splendet per cingula morsu.
Sed nova si nigri videas miracula saxi,
Tunc superat pulchros cultus et quicquid Eois
Indus litoribus rubrâ scrutatur in algu.

CLAUDIAN

I SAT beside the glowing grate, fresh heaped
With Newport coal, and as the flame grew bright
-The many-coloured flame-and played and leaped,
I thought of rainbows and the northern light,
Moore's Lalla Rookh, the Treasury Report,
And other brilliant matters of the sort.

And last I thought of that fair isle which sent
The mineral fuel; on a summer day

I saw it once, with heat and travel spent,

And scratched by dwarf-oaks in the hollow way; Now dragged through sand, now jolted over stoneA rugged road through rugged Tiverton.

And hotter grew the air, and hollower grew

The deep-worn path, and horror-struck, I thought,
Where will this dreary passage lead me to ?—
This long, dull road, so narrow, deep, and hot?

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ON RHODE ISLAND COAL.

I looked to see it dive in earth outright;

I looked-but saw a far more welcome sight.

Like a soft mist upon the evening shore,
At once a lovely isle before me lay;
Smooth, and with tender verdure covered o'er,

As if just risen from its calm inland bay;
Sloped each way gently to the grassy edge,
And the small waves that dallied with the sedge.

The barley was just reaped-its heavy sheaves
Lay on the stubble field-the tall maize stood
Dark in its summer growth, and shook its leaves-
And bright the sunlight played on the young wood-
For fifty years ago, the old men say,

The Briton hewed their ancient groves away.

I saw where fountains freshened the green land,
And where the pleasant road, from door to door
With rows of cherry-trees on either hand,

Went wandering all that fertile region o'er

Rogue's Island once--but, when the rogues were dead, Rhode Island was the name it took instead.

Beautiful island! then it only seemed

A lovely stranger-it has grown a friend.
I gazed on its smooth slopes, but never dreamed
How soon that bright beneficent isle would send
The treasures of its womb across the sea,

To warm a poet's room and boil his tea.

ON RHODE ISLAND COAL.

Dark anthracite ! that reddenest on my hearth,

Thou in those island mines didst slumber long; But now thou art come forth to move the earth,

And put to shame the men that mean thee wrong. Thou shalt be coals of fire to those that hate thee, And warm the shins of all that under-rate thee.

Yea, they did wrong thee foully-they who mocked
Thy honest face, and said thou wouldst not burn;
Of hewing thee to chimney-pieces talked,

And grew profane-and swore, in bitter scorn,
That men might to thy inner caves retire,
And there, unsinged, abide the day of fire.

Yet is thy greatness nigh. I pause to state,
That I too have seen greatness—even I—
Shook hands with Adams-stared at La Fayette,
When, barehead, in the hot noon of July,
He would not let the umbrella be held o'er him,
For which three cheers burst from the mob before him.

And I have seen--not many months ago

An eastern Governor in chapeau bras

And military coat, a glorious show!

Ride forth to visit the reviews, and ah!

How oft he smiled and bowed to Jonathan!
How many hands were shook and votes were won!

'Twas a great Governor-thou too shalt be

Great in thy turn-and wide shall spread thy fame,

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