THE LATTICE AT SUNRISE.

on my bed at dawn I mused and prayed,

I saw my lattice prankt upon the wall,

The flaunting leaves and flitting birds withal

A sunny phantom interlaced with shade;

'Thanks be to heaven!' in happy mood I said, 'What sweeter aid my matins could befall Than this fair glory from the East hath made? What holy sleights hath God, the Lord of all,

To bid us feel and see! we are not free

To say we see not, for the glory comes

Nightly and daily, like the flowing sea ;

His lustre pierceth through the midnight glooms ; And at prime hour, behold! He follows me

With golden shadows to my secret rooms!'

Charles Tennyson Turner.

HUNDRED wings are dropt as soft as one,
Now ye are lighted! Pleasing to my sight
The fearful circle of your wondering flight,
Kapid and loud, and drawing homeward soon ;
And then, the sober chiding of your tone,
As there ye sit, from your own roofs arraigning
My trespass on your haunts, so boldly done,
Sounds like a solemn and a just complaining

O happy, happy race! for though there clings
A feeble fear about your timid clan,

Yet are ye blest! with not a thought that brings
Disquietude,-while proud and sorrowing man,
An eagle, weary of his mighty wings,

With anxious inquest fills his mortal span !

CHARLES TENNYSON TURNER.

TIME AND TWILIGHT.

N the dark twilight of an autumn morn,

I stood within a little country-town,

Wherefrom a long acquainted path went down

To the dear village haunts where I was born;

The low of oxen on the rainy wind,

Death and the Past, came up the well-known road,
And bathed my heart with tears, but stirr'd my mind
To tread once more the track so long untrod;

But I was warn'd, 'Regrets which are not thrust
Upon thee, seek not; for this sobbing breeze
Will but unman thee; thou art bold to trust
Thy woe-worn thoughts among these roaring trees,
And gleams of by-gone playgrounds-Is't no crime
To rush by night into the arms of Time?'

CHARLES TENNYSON Turner.

T was her first sweet child, her heart's delight :
And, though we all foresaw his early doom,
We kept the fearful secret out of sight ;
We saw the canker, but she kiss'd the bloom.
And yet it might not be we could not brook
To vex her happy heart with vague alarms,
To blanch with fear her fond intrepid look,
Or send a thrill through those encircling arms.
She smiled upon him, waking or at rest :

She could not dream her little child would die :
She toss'd him fondly with an upward eye :

She seem'd as buoyant as a summer spray,
That dances with a blossom on its breast,
Nor knows how soon it will be borne away.

CHARLES TENNYSON TURNER.

A SUMMER TWILIGHT.

is a Summer's gloaming, balmy-sweet,

A gloaming brightened by an infant moon,

Fraught with the fairest light of middle June ;

The lonely garden echoes to my feet,

And hark! O hear I not the gentle dews,

Fretting the silent forest in his sleep?

Or does the stir of housing insects creep
Thus faintly on mine ear? Day's many hues
Waned with the paling light and are no more,
And none but drowsy pinions beat the air :
The bat is hunting softly by my door,

And, noiseless as the snow-flake, leaves his lair;
O'er the still copses flitting here and there,

Wheeling the self-same circuit o'er and o'er.

CHARLES TENNYSON TURNER.