Inverted in the tide, Stand the gray rocks, and trembling shadows throw, Sweet April!-many a thought Is wedded unto thee, as hearts are wed; AUTUMN. WITH what a glory comes and goes the year! A pomp and pageant fill the splendid scene. There is a beautiful spirit breathing now Its mellow richness on the clustered trees, And, from a beaker full of richest dyes, Pouring new glory on the autumn woods, And dipping in warm light the pillared clouds. Morn on the mountain, like a summer bird, Lifts up her purple wing, and in the vales The gentle wind, a sweet and passionate wooer, Kisses the blushing leaf, and stirs up life Within the solemn woods of ash deep-crimsoned, And silver beech, and maple yellow-leaved, Where autumn, like a faint old man, sits down By the wayside a-weary. Through the trees The golden robin moves. The purple finch, That on wild cherry and red cedar feeds, O what a glory doth this world put on For him who, with a fervent heart, goes forth Under the bright and glorious sky, and looks On duties well performed, and days well spent! For him the wind, ay, and the yellow leaves Shall have a voice, and give him eloquent teachings He shall so hear the solemn hymn, that Death Has lifted up for all, that he shall go To his long resting-place without a tear. WOODS IN WINTER. WHEN winter winds are piercing chill, That overbrows the lonely vale. O'er the bare upland, and away Through the long reach of desert woods, Where, twisted round the barren oak, Where, from their frozen urns, mute springs Shrilly the skater's iron rings, And voices fill the woodland side. Alas! how changed from the fair scene, But still wild music is abroad, Pale, desert woods! within your crowd; And gathering winds, in hoarse accord, Amid the vocal reeds pipe loud. Chill airs and wintry winds! my ear HYMN OF THE MORAVIAN NUNS OF BETHLEHEM. AT THE CONSECRATION OF PULASKI'S BANNER. WHEN the dying flame of day And the nun's sweet hymn was heard the while Sung low in the dim, mysterious aisle. "Take thy banner! May it wave "Take thy banner! and, beneath "Take thy banner! But, when night Spare him!-he our love hath shared! "Take thy banner!—and if e'er The warrior took that banner proud, SUNRISE ON THE HILLS. I STOOD upon the hills, when heaven's wide arch Was glorious with the sun's returning march, And woods were brightened, and soft gales Went forth to kiss the sun-clad vales. The clouds were far beneath me;-bathed in light, They gathered mid-way round the wooded height, And, in their fading-glory, shone Like hosts in battle overthrown, As many a pinnacle, with shifting glance, Through the gray mist thrust up its shattered lance, And rocking on the cliff was left The dark pine blasted, bare, and cleft. Glowed the rich valley, and the river's flow I heard the distant waters dash, The music of the village bell Came sweetly to the echo-giving hills; And the wild horn, whose voice the woodland fills, Was ringing to the merry shout, That faint and far the glen sent out, Where, answering to the sudden shot, thin smoke, Through thick-leaved branches, from the dingle broke. If thou art worn and hard beset With sorrows, that thou wouldst forget, |