Who knows but that his philosophic mind
May, in its daily cogitations, find

A something, which will surely make mankind
Forgive the farm?

I've half a mind to say his very look

Doth almost promise us a pleasing book;
But then perhaps his "brandy-buds" I took
For burning thoughts.

One thing for him I yet presume to say—
That though his locks are growing rather grey,

His very features show, in all their play,

His spirit's power.

And now, my friends, I simply this relate-
If any choose to live without a mate,
Such are the blessings of the single state!
Let that suffice!

XII. THE FLOWER-QUEEN'S TEARS. (1843.)

THE Queen of Flowers, in laughing mood,

Once sallied from her solitude;

Around her lay her rich domain,

Bejeweled by the recent rain.

The stately lily, pale and proud,

Beneath the drops but slightly bowed;

While, o'er the way, with graceful ease,
The rose was nodding to the breeze.

Within its green and fragrant bed,
The violet concealed its head;
Just peeping forth, half shy, half wild,
Like some fair, spoiled, but loving child.

But while the smiling queen of flowers
Gazed on the beauties of her bowers,
A change came o'er her beaming eye,
And sad she murmured-" These must die!"

Now every night her tears are shed
Upon each flow'ret's bending head;
And every morn, through rolling years,
Sol kisses up the Flower-Queen's tears!

XIII. THE HUMMING BIRD.

(1843.)

How beautiful! how beautiful!

A floating drop of light!
Its robe of shining emerald,
Its throat of red and white;
Its pinion ever fluttering,
So tireless and so gay;
'Tis sure some spirit wandering
From Eden's bowers astray!

XIV THE WEDDING.

(1844.)

THE halls were crowded with the gay,
And joyous was the throng;
When slow and silently they led
The blushing bride along.

The rich profusion of her locks,
Adorned with gems and gold,
Flowed gracefully around a neck
Of purest Grecian mould.

The flush that mantled o'er her face
Too plainly told the feeling,
Beneath the well dissembled smile
She vainly was concealing.

The hands were joined in plighted faith, The solemn deed was done,

The blessing fell from holy lips,

The loving twain were one.

XV. THE ABSENT ONE.

(1844.)

Ar morning prayer, while 'round the throne

We gather in affection,

The vacant seat, with spirit-tone,

Speaks ever of the absent one,
And fills us with dejection.

Yet, when we feel she dreams in bliss,
Our grief is turned to gladness;
We humbly bow the rod to kiss,
Of him who called her home, as His,
From sickness and from sadness.

She recks no more his flowing tears,
That o'er her mem'ry weepeth;
She heeds no more our hopes or fears,
But while we mourn through weary years,
"She is not dead, but sleepeth!"

XVI. FAME EPHEMERAL.

(1845.)

SEEK not for fame; 'tis but the foam,

That floats along the shore;
To-day it crowns the billow's crest,
To-morrow is no more.

XVII. HEAVENWARD BREATHINGS,

(1846)

O EARTH! thy spell is fading fast,
The present merging in the past;
The soul grows weary of its clod,
And springs to meet its parent-God!

XVIII.

DEATH OF "L. E. L.”:

IN youth and beauty thou hast silent gone,

From all earth's pride and pleasure passed away! But who shall write thy dirge, thou bird-like one? Or who shall chant for thee the mournful lay?

Shall sighing friends, with sad and solemn chime,
Sing of thy genius and thy mental worth;
Or leave it to the soothing lapse of time,

To turn our plaintive mournings into mirth?

The laurel wreath around thy pale young brow,
Shall fade not, fall not, in the coming years;

But green, and fresh, and beautiful as now,
Shine through the dew-drops of affection's tears.

Fair, fragile wand'rer, why so short thy stay,
So fleeting thy career? Say, hast thou found,

*Mrs. McLean-formerly Miss Landon.