DELIGHTFUL is this loneliness; it calms
My heart: pleasant the cool beneath these elms,
That throw across the stream a moveless shade.
Here Nature in her midnoon whisper speaks;
How peaceful every sound!-the ring-dove's plaint,
Moan'd from the twilight centre of the grove,
While every other woodland lay is mute,
Save when the wren flirts from her down-cov'd nest,
And from the root-sprigs trills her ditty clear,-
The grasshopper's oft-pausing chirp-the buzz,
Angrily shrill, of moss-entangled bee,
That, soon as loos'd, booms with full twang away,-
The sudden rushing of the minnow shoal,
Scar'd from the shallows by the passing tread,
Dimpling the water glides; with here and there
A glossy fly, skimming in circlets gay
The treacherous surface, while the quick-eyed trout
Watches his time to spring; or, from above,
Some feather'd dam, purveying 'mong the boughs,
Darts from her perch, and to her plumeless brood
Bears off the prize :-sad emblem of man's lot!
'Tis the last Rose of Summer,
Left blooming alone:
All her lovely companions
Are faded and gone:
No flower of her kindred,
No rose-bud is nigh,
To reflect back her blushes,
Or give sigh for sigh.
I'll not leave thee, thou lone one!
To pine on the stem:
Since the lovely are sleeping,
Go, sleep thou with them.
Thus kindly I scatter
Thy leaves o'er the bed,
Where thy mates of the garden
Lie scentless and dead.
So, soon may I follow
When friendships decay,
And from Love's shining circle
The gems drop away;
When true hearts lie wither'd
And fond ones are flown,
Oh! who would inhabit
This bleak world alone?
And yet, fair bow, no fabling dreams,
But words of the Most High
Have told, why first thy robe of beams
Was woven in the sky.
When o'er the green undelug'd earth,
Heaven's covenant, thou didst shine,
How came the world's grey fathers forth
To watch thy sacred sign!
And when its yellow lustre smil'd
O'er mountains yet untrod,
Each mother held aloft her child
To bless the bow of God.
Methinks, thy jubilee to keep
The first-made anthem rang,
On earth deliver'd from the deep,
And the first poet sang.
Nor ever shall the Muse's eye
Unraptur'd greet thy beam;
Theme of primeval prophecy,
Be still the poet's theme!
The earth to thee its incense yields,
The lark thy welcome sings,
When, glittering in the freshen'd fields
The snowy mushroom springs.
How glorious is thy girdle cast,
O'er mountain, tower, and town,
Or mirror'd in the ocean vast,
A thousand fathoms down.
As fresh in yon horizon dark,
As young thy beauties seem,
As when the eagle from the ark
First sported in thy beam.
For, faithful to its sacred page,
Heaven still rebuilds thy span,
Nor lets the type grow pale with age,
That first spoke peace to man.
LITTLE guest, with merry throat,
That chirpest by the taper light,
Come, prolong thy blithsome note,
Welcome visitant of night.
Here enjoy a calm retreat,
In my chimney safely dwell,
No rude hand thy haunt shall beat,
Or chase thee from thy lonely cell.
Come, recount me all thy woes,
While around us sighs the gale,
Or, rejoic'd to find repose,
Charm me with thy merry tale.
Say what passion moves thy breast,
Does some flame employ thy care?
Perhaps with love thou art oppress'd,
A mournful victim of despair.
Shelter'd from the wintry wind,
Live and sing, and banish care,-
Here protection thou shalt find,
Sympathy has brought thee here.
"LADY-BIRD! Lady-bird! fly away home,"
The field-mouse has gone to her nest,
The daisies have shut up their sleepy red eyes,
And the bees and the birds are at rest.
"Lady-bird! Lady-bird! fly away home,”-
The glow-worm is lighting her lamp,
The dew 's falling fast, and your fine speckled wings Will flag with the close-clinging damp.
"Lady-bird! Lady-bird! fly away home,”—
Good luck if you reach it at last,
The owl's come abroad, and the bat 's on the roam,
Sharp set from their Ramagan fast.
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