MARRIED LIFE.

WRITTEN ON THE ANNIVERSARY OF A WEDDING-DAY.

THE earth once more hath run its annual round,
And smiles as faintly at the paling sun
As when by holy rite ye twain were bound,
And a glad brother's voice proclaim'd ye one;

One in the Lord, as one in heart and choice,
For ye alike had chosen the better way,
And therefore will with holy glee rejoice,

When Autumn grave brings back the wedding-day.

All hath not haply been as young conceit
Of wedded bliss the story would compose,
But have ye found the song of love less sweet
Because translated into household prose?

Duties there needs must be, and toils, and cares,
And there may be some salutary pains,

That unexpected come and unawares

To all that walk in wedlock's lightest chains.

The man who tills the blessed Saviour's land,

Must sow a seed that oft is long a growing; And she that would assist with patient hand, Must water daily while her spouse is sowing.

The world besieges sore the wedded pair,

And many a charm of youth is early blighted, But Heaven preserve ye both from fruitless care, And bless the day whereon ye were united.

A POOR MAN'S REASONS FOR NOT MARRYING.

I HEARD thy voice amid the psalm,
Where many voices meet,

Yet thy low voice was like a calm,

It was so soft and sweet.

"Twas like a calm upon the ocean,

When seas have been in wild commotion.

I heard thy voice one summer eve

Within thy lowly cot,

When I am sure thou didst believe

That mortal heard it not.

And then thy voice was bold and strong,
Singing a solitary song.

I heard a meagre mother sing,
With small and whining note,
To soothe a little pining thing,
From bare and hungry throat;
And then I thought, O lady mine,
May never such a song be thine!

LINES WRITTEN IMPROMPTU AFTER HEARING A LADY SINGING.

LIKE a blithe birdie in a darksome isle

Of changeless holly 'mid a spacious wood;

Such was the song, and such the pensive smile,
Robed in the garb of early widowhood.

And yet not so, the birdie has a nest,

And sings of hopes and joys that yet are coming, When every bush is in its vernal best,

And all her callow brood are sunk to rest

To thousand thousand insects' joyous humming. But not in hope the human songstress trills

The lilt of joy, or long, long note of sorrow;

We sing not well till frequent proofs of ills
Have made us too distrustful of to-morrow;
And yet sometimes we gladly would be gay-
So let's rejoice in joy of yesterday.

December 26, 1835.

GOOD NIGHT.

GOOD night, good friend, good night to thee,
Good night, sweet lady fair and free,

For the night has been a good night to me,
Though thou art come from a far countree.

Smiles soft and still, not laughter high,
Have gladden'd our quiet company,

And ever and aye with a happy sigh
Thou smilest on the baby sleeping by.

See how the baby smiles in her sleep.

What dream on her soul doth lightly creep?

What fancy so pretty is playing bo-peep

With the innocent's thoughts in the fields of sleep?

When slumbering babies smile in a dream,

'Tis their angel, as antique faith would deem, That plays with their hearts like a moonlight beam,

Stealing through chinks to a hidden stream.

Good night, good night, the smile is past,
And I must say good night at last;
I am long a-going, but hark to the blast,
And the rain that patters so loud and fast.

But I will carry sweet thought away,

To sweeten my bread for many a day, When I think of the beautiful babe that lay

So calm yet as bright as an image of May.