Calmly to yield the weary breath, From sin and suffering cease; Think of heaven's bliss, and give the sign MONTGOMERY. A MOONLIGHT NIGHT. 3OW beautiful is night! A dewy freshness fills the silent air; Breaks the serene of heaven: In full orbed glory yonder moon divine Rolls through the dark blue depths. The desert circle spreads, Like the round ocean, girdled with the sky: How beautiful is night! SOUTHEY. SUNSHINE HO loveth not the sunshine? oh! who loveth not the bright And blessed mercy of His smile, who said, "Let there be light?" Who lifteth not his face to meet the rich and glowing beam? Who dwelleth not with miser eyes upon such golden stream? Let those who will accord their song to hail the revel blaze That only comes where feasting reigns and courtly gallants gaze! But the sweet and merry sunshine is a braver theme to sing, For it kindles round the peasant while it bursts above the king. Sunshine. 213 We hear young voices round us now swell loud in eager joy, And scattered them, like busy bees, all humming in our way. We see old age and poverty forsake the fireside chair, And leave a narrow, cheerless home, to taste the vernal air; The winter hours were long to him who had no spice-warmed cup, No bed of down to nestle in, no furs to wrap him up. But now he loiters 'mid the crowd, and leans upon his staff, He gossips with his lowly friends, and joins the children's laugh. 'Tis the bright and merry sunshine that has led the old man out, To hear once more the Babel roar, and wander round about. The sweet and merry sunshine makes the very churchyard fair; We half forget the yellow bones, while yellow flowers are there; And while the summer beams are thrown upon the osiered heap, We tread with lingering footsteps where our "rude forefathers sleep." The hemlock does not seem so rank-the willow is not dull; The rich flood lights the coffin nail and burnishes the skull. Oh! the sweet and merry sunshine is a pleasant thing to see, Though it plays upon a grave-stone through the gloomy cypress tree. There's a sunshine that is brighter, that is warmer e'en than this; That spreadeth round a stronger gleam, and sheds a deeper bliss; That gilds whate'er it touches with a lustre all its own, GRACIOUS RAIN. HE east wind had whistled for many a day, Looked sullenly down on the plain. The butterfly folded her wings at if dead, Or awaked ere the full destined time; Every flower shrank inward, or hung down its head I, too, shrank and shivered, and eyed the cold earth, And I listened in vain for the summer bird's mirth, But, lo! while I listened, down heavily dropt A few tears from a low-sailing cloud; Large and few they descended—then quickened—then stopt; They poured down abundant and loud. Oh, the rapture of beauty, of sweetness, of sound, With laughter and singing the valleys rang round, The wind sank away like a sleeping child's breath, And the sun, like a spirit triumphant o'er death, 215 On this "beautiful world" such a change had been wrought By these few blessed drops. Oh, the same On some cold stony heart might be worked too, methought, If a few virtuous tears by the merciful shed, Touched its hardness, perhaps the good grain That was sown there and rooted, though long seeming dead, And the smile of the virtuous, like sunshine from heaven, And remorse, when the rock's flinty surface was riven, Oh, to work such a change-by God's grace to recall CAROLINE SOUTHEY. IT SNOWS. 3T snows! it snows! from out the sky The feathered flakes, how fast they fly Like little birds, that don't know why They're on the chase, from place to place, While neither can the other trace. It snows! it snows! a merry play As dancers in an airy hall, That hasn't room to hold them all, Is rising like a wall of light. But now the wind comes whistling loud, To snatch and waft it as a cloud, Or giant phantom in a shroud; It spreads! it curls! it mounts and whirls! To-morrow will the storm be done; 'Tis shade and shine! It snows! it snows! H. F. GOULD. |