With folding winds they waiting sit To some calm and blooming cove, Which the wild sea-murmur fills, Of all flowers that breathe and shine. The polluting multitude; But their rage would be subdued By that clime divine and calm, And the winds whose wings rain balm And the love which heals all strife, Would repent its envy vain, And the earth grow young again! PERCY BYSSHe Shelley. THE WINGED WORSHIPPERS. ADDRESSED TO TWO SWALLOWS THAT FLEW INTO CHURCH DURING DIVINE SERVICE. AY, guiltless pair, What seek ye from the fields of heaven? Ye have no need of prayer; Ye have no sins to be forgiven. Why perch ye here, Where mortals to their Maker bend? Can your pure spirits fear The God ye never could offend? Ye never knew The crimes for which we come to weep. To you 'tis given To wake sweet nature's untaught lays; Beneath the arch of heaven To chirp away a life of praise. Then spread each wing Far, far above, o'er lakes and lands, And join the choirs that sing In yon blue dome not reared with hands. Or, if ye stay, To note the consecrated hour, Above the crowd On upward wings could I but fly, I'd bathe in yon bright cloud, And seek the stars that gem the sky. 'T were heaven indeed Through fields of trackless light to soar, On nature's charms to feed, And nature's own great God adore. CHARLES SPRAGUE. O WINTER! WILT THOU NEVER GO? WINTER! wilt thou never, never go? O summer! but I weary for thy coming, And frugal bees laboriously humming. And must crouch in corners from rough weather; THE HEATH-COCK. DAVID GRAY. OOD morrow to thy sable beak A maid there is in yonder tower, A fleeting moment of delight I sunned me in her cheering sight; Joanna Baillie. MOONLIGHT ON THE PRAIRIE. " FROM EVANGELINE." Art thou so near unto me, and yet thy voice does not reach me? Ah! how often thy feet have trod this path to the prai rie! Ah! how often thine eyes have looked on the woodlands around me! Ah! how often beneath this oak, returning from labor, Thou hast lain down to rest, and to dream of me in thy slumbers. When shall these eyes behold, these arms be folded about thee?" Loud and sudden and near the note of a whip-poorwill sounded EAUTIFUL was the night. Behind the black Like a flute in the woods; and anon, through the wall of the forest, neighboring thickets, Tipping its summit with silver, arose the moon. Farther and farther away it floated and dropped into On the river silence. Fell here and there through the branches a tremulous "Patience!" whispered the oaks from oracular cavgleam of the moonlight, erns of darkness; Like the sweet thoughts of love on a darkened and de- And, from the moonlit meadow, a sigh responded, · vious spirit. "To-morrow!" Nearer and round about her, the manifold flowers of the garden Poured out their souls in odors, that were their prayers and confessions Unto the night, as it went its way, like a silent Carthusian. Fuller of fragrance than they, and as heavy with shadows and night-dews, Hung the heart of the maiden. The calm and the magical moonlight Seemed to inundate her soul with indefinable longings, As, through the garden gate, and beneath the shade of the oak-trees, Passed she along the path to the edge of the measureless prairie. Silent it lay, with a silvery haze upon it, and fire-flies Gleaming and floating away in mingled and infinite numbers. Over her head the stars, the thoughts of God in the heavens, Shone on the eyes of man, who had ceased to marvel and worship, Save when a blazing comet was seen on the walls of that temple, As if a hand had appeared and written upon them, "Upharsin." And the soul of the maiden, between the stars and the fire-flies, Wandered alone, and she cried, "O Gabriel! O my beloved! Art thou so near unto me, and yet I cannot behold thee? HENRY WADSWORTH LONgfellow. GOD EVERYWHERE IN NATURE. OW desolate were nature, and how void As on me shines the sun with his full blaze, THE PILOT. He OHN MAYNARD was well known Simpson came up with his face as pale as ashes, and said, "Captain, the ship is on fire!" Then "Fire! fire! fire!" on shipboard. All hands were called up; buckets of water were dashed on the fire, but in vain. There were large quantities of rosin and tar on board, and it was found useless to attempt to save the ship. The passengers rushed forward and inquired of the pilot, "How far are we from Buffalo?" LOST IN THE SNOW. HE cold winds swept the mountain's height, And pathless was the dreary wild, And, 'mid the cheerless hours of night, A mother wandered with her child. As through the drifted snows she pressed, The babe was sleeping on her breast. And colder still the winds did blow, And darker hours of night came on, And deeper grew the drifts of snowHer limbs were chilled, her strength was gone"O God, she cried, in accents wild, "If I must perish, save my child!" She stripped her mantle from her breast, And bared her bosom to the storm, And smiled to think her babe was warm. At dawn, a traveler passed by: She lay beneath a snowy veil ; Her cheek was cold, and hard, and pale- JOHN MAYNARD. WAS on Lake Erie's broad expanse, Bright faces clustered on the deck, Or leaning o'er the side, That smiling bends serene, Could dream that ere an hour had sped, Would sink beneath the lake's blue waves, A seaman sought the captain's side, |