To own mine honest love? Is love a thing
To blush for?-Love-the sacred root of all
The household pure affections, things of truth
And piety next what we owe to heaven.
Love that makes friendship poor-that mocks
enchantment-
Itself possession endless! That's example
Of loyalty! Its master better served
Than monarchs on their throne, his throne himself!
The more abounds in sunshine of content,
Than density of clouds to quench the light.
Whole in itself! Love, that is chastity
Of more than vestal perfectness! The world
For choice, yet one with leave of heaven se-
lecting,
And giving all the rest to negligence!
As the refiner, the alloy, when once
He finds the extracted gold.
KNOWLES's John of Procida.
Witch not your feet away; and in the dells
There are no sunny places to lie down.
You must go in, and by your cheerful fire
Wait for the offices of love, and hear
Accents of human tenderness, and feast
Your eye upon the beauty of the young.
It is a season for the quiet thought,
And the still reckoning with thyself. The year
"Gives back the spirits of its dead,” and Time
Whispers the history of its vanished hours;
And the heart call his affections up,
Counteth his wasted ingots. Life stands still
And settles like a fountain, and the eye
Sees clearly through its depths, and noteth all
That stirred its troubled waters. It is well
That winter with the dying year should come.
WILLIS.
THE faded flower, the dream of love,
The poison and the dart,
The tearful trust, the smiling wrong,
The tomb-behold, oh child of song,
The history of thy heart!
So at that dreamy hour of day,
When the last lingering ray
Stops at the highest cloud to play-
So thought the gentle Rosalie,
As on her maiden revery
First fell the strain of him who stole
In music to her soul.
THE welkin glows. What floods of purple
light
Announce the coming of the king of day!
The streaming rays that every moment grow
More tremulously bright, like guards uplift
The diamond-pointed spear, and swiftly run
Before his chariot. Lo!-with dazzling pomp
The gates of morning burst, and forth he comes,
In light ineffable, and strength supreme,
Best image of the God that rules the world.
Hill-top, and sacred spire, and monument,
Receive him first, with princely reverence,
And blushing, point him to the vales below.
MRS. L. H. SIGOURNEY.
No!-'Tis never woman's part,
Out of her fond misgivings to perplex The fortunes of the man to whom she cleaves; 'Tis hers to weave all that she has of fair And bright in the dark meshes of their web, Inseparate from their windings. My poor heart Hath found its refuge in a hero's love;— Whatever destiny his generous soul Shape for him, 'tis its duty to be still, And trust him, till it bound or break with his.
THE world may scorn me if they choose—I care
But little for their scoffings. I may sink
For moments; but 1 rise again, nor shrink
From doing what the faithful heart inspires.
I will not flatter, fawn, nor crouch, nor wink,
At what high-mounted wealth or power de-
I have a loftier aim to which my soul aspires. PERCIVAL.
MUSIC sure is Moonlight's sister,
Or the twain must wedded be;
For, as when Endymion kissed her,
Dian smiles on harmony.
Music, every ear entrancing,
May the noon-day hour control;
But, o'er moon-lit waters dancing,
Melody enslaves the soul.
Music, ancient authors tell us,
Is to Phoebus close allied;
But the god might well be jealous,
Hearing her by Luna's side.
Music, too, doth Cupid cherish,
For she is the nurse of Love;
And no infant passions perish,
Blessed by Dian from above.
Music breaks the maiden's slumbers;
Moonlight lends its kindred charms;
Vanquished by the magic numbers,
Sinks she in her lover's arms.
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