Watch for Thee.

Mrs. E. B. Wilson.

I WATCH for thee when parting day
Sheds on the earth a ling'ring ray;

When his last blush upon

the rose

A richer tint of crimson throws,

And

every flow'ret's leaves are curl'd Like Beauty shrinking from the world; When silence reigns o'er lawn and lea, Then, dearest love, I watch for thee.

I watch for thee when eve's first star
Shines dimly in the heavens afar,
And twilight's mists and shadows grey
Upon the lake's broad waters play:
When not a breeze nor sound is heard
To startle evenings's lonely bird;
But hush'd is e'en the humming-bee-
Then, dearest love, I wait for thee.

I watch for thee when on the eyes
Of childhood slumber gently lies;
When sleep has still'd the noisy mirth
Of playful voices round our hearth,
And each cherub's fancy glows

With dreams that only childhood knows;

Of pleasures past, or yet to be,

Then, dearest love, I watch for thee.

I watch for thee, hope of my heart,
Returning from the clouded mart
Of worldly toil and worldly strife
And all the busy scene of life.
Then, if thy brow of brightness wear
A moment's space the shade of care,
My smile, amid that gloom, shall be
The rainbow of the storm to thee.

The Orphan Boy.

Mrs. Opie.

STAY lady, stay, for mercy's sake,
And hear a helpless orphan's tale !
Oh! sure my looks must pity wake,
'Tis want that makes my cheek so pale.
Yet I was once a mother's pride,
And my brave father's hope and joy;
But in the Nile's proud fight he died,
And now I am an orphan boy.

Poor foolish child! how pleas'd was I
When news of Nelson's victory came,
Along the crowded streets to fly,
And see the lighted window's flame!
To force me home my mother sought:
She could not bear to see my joy;
For with my father's life 't was bought
And made me a poor orphan boy.

The people's shouts were long and loud; My mother, shuddering, stopp'd her ears "Rejoice! rejoice!" still cried the crowd; My mother answered with her tears. 'Why are you crying thus,' said I, 'While others laugh and shout with joy ?' She kiss'd me- -and-with such a sigh! She called me her poor orphan boy.

'What is an orphan boy?' I cried,
As in her face I look'd and smil'd;

My mother through her tears replied
'You'll know too soon, ill-fated child!'

And now they 've toll'd my mother's knell,
And I'm no more a parent's joy,—
O lady! I have learn'd too well
What 't is to be an orphan boy.

Oh! were I by your bounty fed!
Nay, gentle lady, do not chide,
Trust me, I wish to earn my bread
The sailor's orphan-boy has pride.
Lady, you weep!-—ah!—this to me?
You'll give me clothing food employ ?
Look down, dear parents! look and see

Your happy, happy orphan boy.

All's for the Best.

Tupper.

ALL's for the best! be sanguine and cheerful;
Trouble and sorrow are friends in disguise:
Nothing-but-folly grows faithless and fearful;
Courage for-ever is happy and wise :—

All's for best, if man would but know it,
Providence wishes us all to be blest:
This is no dream of the pundit or poet;
Heaven is gracious, and... All's for the best!

All's for the best! set this on your standard,
Soldier-of-sadness or pilgrim-of-love

Who to-the-shores-of-despair may have wander'd,
A way-wearied swallow, or heart-stricken dove!

All's for the best! be a man, but confiding:
Providence tenderly governs the rest;
And the frail bark of-his-creature is guiding
Wisely and warily, all for the best!

All's for the best! then fling-away terrors:

fears and your

your

foes in the van;

Meet all And, in the midst of your dangers or errors, Trust like a child, while you strive like a man.

All's for the best! Unbiass'd - unbounded, Providence reigns from-the-East to the West; And, by-both-wisdom-and-mercy surrounded, Hope, and be happy, that...All's for the best!

G

Stanza for Musiq.

By the Rev. T. Dale.

O BREATHE-no-more that simple air,

Though soft and sweet thy wild notes swell;
To-me the only tale they tell

Is cold despair!

I heard it once from lips as fair,

I heard it in as-sweet a tone;

Now I am left,-on-earth alone

And she is...where ?

How have those well-known sounds renew'd
The dreams of earlier, happier hours,
When life-a desert now-was strew'd

With fairy flowers!

When all was bright and fond and fair;
Now flowers are faded, joys are fled,
And heart and hope are with the dead,
For she is...where?

Can I then love the air she loved?
Can I then hear-the-melting-strain,
Which brings-her to-my-soul again,

Calm and unmoved?

And thou to-blame-my-tears forbear,
For, while I list, sweet maid! to thee,
Remembrance whispers..." such was she

And she is...where ?