BIRDS OF PASSAGE. ANONYMOUS. Or song so sweet and flight so free, Nor cold, nor frost, nor snow we know, Nor wintry blasts e'er on us blow. For joyous birds of passage are we, And summer is with us where'er we be. We ever sport in purest skies, And bright things ever greet our eyes; We take no scorn of rich or poor, In every land of welcome sure. For joyous birds of passage are we, On earth, on ocean, and on shore, For joyous birds of passage are we, We mourn not brood behind us left, Oh! none would harm such things of joy. And summer is with us where'er we be. When death's soft hand doth on us fall, For joyous birds of passage are we, 6* THE VOYAGE OF LIFE. BY G. P. R. JAMES. I WISH I could as merry be, As when I set out this world to see, On some gay voyage sent. There youth spread forth the broad white sail, Confiding life would never fail, And Fancy whistled for the wind, And Hope kept whispering in Youth's ear, To spread more sail and never fear, For the same sky would still be clear, Until they reached the land. Health, too, and Strength tugged at the oar, Mirth mocked the passing billow's roar, And Joy with goblet running o'er, Drank draughts of deep delight; And Judgment was a child as yet, To guide the boat aright:— Bubbles did half her thoughts employ, Hope, she believed - she played with Joy, Then Prudence told them all she feared; And Youth awhile his messmates cheered, Until at length he disappeared, Though none knew how he went. Joy hung her head, and Mirth grew dull, Health faltered, Strength refused to pull; And Memory, with her soft eyes full, Backward her glance still bent To where, upon the distant sea, And though Hope, gazing from the bow, Turns oft she sees the shore- to vow, - Judgment grown older, now I trow, And though she steers with better skill, Fear says the storm is rising still, And day is almost spent. O! that I could as merry be, As when I set out this world to see, A FAREWELL. BY ISMAEL FITZADAM. FARE thee well, land of my birth, That bound my heart to thee,- farewell! With a love that scarce death could remove, Lift the sail. The lone spirit that braves Lift the sail-all remembrances sleep |