LINES.

A CLOUD lay near the setting sun,
As he smiled in the glowing west,

And his glorious beams, as he slowly sunk,
Fell full on its shining breast;

And it sent him back again his rays,

And grew brighter, and more bright,

Till it seemed, as its glowing colors changed,
An embodiment of light.

But the sun sunk down at the close of day,
And in rain-drops it wept itself away.

A fair young bride at the altar stood,

And a blush was on her cheek,

And her voice was so low, that the vows she vowed

Seemed scarce from her lips to break.

Yet joy sat on her placid lip,

And in her downcast eye,

For a long, long life of happiness

Before her seemed to lie.

But her lord soon bowed to Death's stern doom,

And she wept herself to her silent tomb.

MEDITATION.

TELL me, ye viewless Spirits of the Air,
Who steal upon the soul with silent wing,
Seeming to wake, as with its breath, a string
That yields deep melody all hidden there,
Tell me if ye are visions from the tomb,
Or dreams awaked by Fancy's wizard call,
Or ministers of ill, released from thrall,
In robes of light, to tempt us to our doom,
Or messengers of peace from regions blest,
On mercy's errand, stooping from above,
Or friends departed, drawn by lingering love
To whisper weal or warning to the breast?
Ye have no voice to answer, but the eye
Doth trace your homeward pathway to the sky!

INFIDELITY.

THOU who scornest truths divine,
Say what joy, what hope is thine?
Is thy soul from sorrow free?
Is this world enough for thee?

No; for care corrodes thy heart.
Art thou willing to depart?

No; thy nature bids thee shrink

From the void abyss's brink.

Thou may'st laugh, in broad sunshine;

Scoff, when sparkles the red wine;
Thou must tremble, when deep night
Shuts the pageant from thy sight.
Morning comes, and thou blasphemest;
Yet another day thou deemest
Thine; but soon its light will wane;
Then thy warning comes again.
There's a morrow with no night-
Broad and blazing, endless light!
Should its dawn thy dreams o'ertake,
Better thou didst never wake!

TO A CITY PIGEON.

STOOP to my window, thou beautiful dove!
Thy daily visits have touched my love!
I watch thy coming, and list the note
That stirs so low in thy mellow throat,
And my joy is high

To catch the glance of thy gentle eye.

Why dost thou sit on the heated eaves,

And forsake the wood with its freshened leaves? Why dost thou haunt the sultry street,

When the paths of the forest are cool and sweet? How canst thou bear

This noise of people-this breezeless air?

Thou alone of the feathered race,

Dost look unscared on the human face;

Thou alone, with a wing to flee,

Dost love with man in his haunts to be;
And the gentle dove'

Has become a name for trust and love.

A holy gift is thine, sweet bird!

Thou'rt named with childhood's earliest word; Thou'rt linked with all that is fresh and wild In the prisoned thoughts of the city childAnd thy even wings

Are its brightest image of moving things.

It is no light chance.

Thou art set apart Wisely by Him who tamed thy heartTo stir the love for the bright and fair, That else were scaled in the crowded airI sometimes dream

Angelic rays from thy pinions stream.

Come, then, ever when daylight leaves
The page I read, to my humble eaves;
And wash thy breast in the hollow spout,
And murmur thy low, sweet music out-
I hear and see

Lessons of heaven, sweet bird, in thee!

TO THE WITCH HAZEL..

MYSTERIOUS plant! whose golden tresses wave With a sad beauty in the dying year,

Blooming amid November's frost severe,

Like the pale corpse-light o'er the recent grave!
If shepherds tell us true, thy wand hath power,
With gracious influence, to avert the harm
Of ominous planets, and the fatal charm
Of spirits wandering at the midnight hour;

And thou canst point where buried treasures lie.
But yet to me, thou art an emblem high
Of patient virtue, to the Christian given,
Unchanged and bright, when all is dark beside;
Our shield from wild temptations, and our guide
To treasures for the just laid up in heaven.