NATURE AND ART.

WEARY with toiling o'er the burning sand,
A Pilgrim in the caravan of Life,

Gladly, O gentle Poesy! I stand

On thy green oasis, removed from strife;

And after many an hour of toil and pain,

Within thy living wells I bathe again.

Here warm with love, with heaven-inspiring glow,

From climes ideal odorous breezes blow;

Here hope abides unshadowed by a care,

Here beauty haunts the dim and fragrant air,

Here breathes the Past, in sweet and mellow tone,

Of mighty spirits, that from earth have flown,

Here calls the Future with prophetic voice,
And tells of lofty and undying joys; —

And as within this dream-enchanted land,
With Hope and Memory clasping either hand,
I, like a dreamer, hear their magic words,
And let my fingers stray among the chords,
How may I better do than to rehearse

Their golden truths in my unfashioned verse,
And blazoning this device upon my scroll,
"The Brotherhood of Nature with the Soul,"
Give utterance to the various shades that start
In rhythmic cadence from the realms of Art.

Gently as sunshine groweth out of shade, Nature ascendeth slowly, grade by grade. Each stage of life a higher growth foreshows, And holds the germ whence loftier beauty grows. Upward forever springing from the earth

Life struggles onward to a holier birth;
From coral forests whitening 'neath the sea
To blos'my branches of the waving tree;
From the light blossom fluttering in the air
Unto the living flower that feedeth there,
Even as if some breeze, that wandered by,
Shaped from its leaves the downy butterfly,-

From the fair Psyche, at its birth a worm,
That creeps and grovels in its sensual form,
That breaks its coffin-chrysalis to wear
Its spirit-wings and feed upon the air,
Unto the soul, that spurns its clay to fly
Through the vast realms of immortality.
In each progression fresh perfection flowers,
With purer senses and diviner powers;
And as within each simple tone is heard
The faint foreshadowing of the ample chord,
So every portion promises the whole,
And nature prophecies the coming soul.

And man within his spirit and his sense
All forms and hints of nature doth condense;
Imagination, like the shaping sea,

Reason, the air, so subtle, fine and free,

The Understanding, firm fixed like the earth,

The changeful Fancy, cloud-like in its birth,

The fire-like Passion, that through all things swells,

That rarefies and fuses and impels,

Faith, calm, enduring as the silent rocks,

That brave unmoved the tempest's maddening shocks,

And Aspiration panting still to rise,

As plants and flowers, that struggle for the skies.

When the first breathing of the April wind
Woos the fair blossoms from the trees' rough rind,

And breathes with fragrant mouth upon the earth,
And lures the daffodil and crocus forth;

When from the loosening mould the snow-drops peep,
And blue-eyed violets wake from wintry sleep;
When white anemones are clustering round,
And starry housatonias paint the ground;
When high in air the curving swallow cleaves,
Or flutters twittering round the pendant eaves;
When all that was emprisoned bursts its shell,
And issues forth in the free air to dwell;
Then like a brother to the trees and flowers,
The human plant obeys the season's powers:
Elysian longings through our being move,
And stir the sleeping passions into love,
And happy dreams and joyous hopes are born,
And life is painted with the hues of morn.

Yes, man in Nature's every shape can trace
The blurred reflection of his inward face,
And evermore he hears with plaintive tone
Her prisoned spirit pleading to his own,-

As if she struggled to become that soul,
Whose infinite essence comprehends the whole.

And thus is man upon his earthly march, The central point of Nature's perfect arch; To him all rays converge, from him is sent That hue, which is its godlike complement. Still as he wanders here, to him there come The blissful memories of his exiled home; Often amid the toil, and dust, and strife, Clear fountains bubble to refresh his life;

Oft to his listening ear, with silver chime,

Sound the clear bells beyond the walls of time; From Love's warm rays harmonious tones are born, Like Memnon's music at the light of morn;

And Hope's fresh breath upon the longing soul

Fans its emotions to a burning coal;

And these fine dreams, whose silent effluence

Perfumes his life, which come he knows not whence,
Which from the infinite grow without his care,
As clouds that breed from nothing in the air,
Demand their utterance, will not be represt,
Beat like a constant pulse within the breast,
Widening till they within their light intense
Circle the soul's entire circumference,

Their coloring through the air of thought infuse,
Invest all Nature with their radiant hues,