THE LABOURER. He shall bring back, but brighter, broader still, Shall clothe thy spirit with new strength, and fill Hast thou not glimpses, in the twilight here, Of mountains where immortal morn prevails? Comes there not, through the silence, to thine ear A gentle murmur of the morning gales, That sweep the ambrosial groves of that bright shore, And thence the fragrance of its blossoms bear, And voices of the loved ones gone before, More musical in that celestial air? THE LABOURER. BY WILLIAM D. GALLAGHER. STAND up-erect! Thou hast the form A soul as dauntless mid the storm And pure as breast e'er wore. What then?-Thou art as true a man As moves the human mass among; As much a part of the great plan As any of the throng. Who is thine enemy ?-the high In station, or in wealth the chief? 97 98 THE LABOURER. If true unto thyself thou wast, What were the proud one's scorn to thee? A feather, which thou mightest cast Aside, as idly as the blast The light leaf from the tree. No:-uncurb'd passions, low desires, These are thine enemies-thy worst; Thy labour and thy life accursed. Thou art thyself thine enemy! The great! what better they than thou? As theirs, is not thy will as free? Has GOD with equal favours thee True, wealth thou hast not-'tis but dust! But that thou hast, which, with thy crust Of both a noble mind. With this, and passions under ban, True faith, and holy trust in God, Thou art the peer of any man. THE DESERTED WIFE. BY JAMES G. PERCIVAL. He comes not-I have watch'd the moon go down, Over those sleeping eyes, that smile, which cheers I would, with kindness, all my wrongs repay, THE BURIAL-PLACE AT LAUREL HILL. BY WILLIS GAYLORD CLARK. HERE the lamented dead in dust shall lie, Life's lingering languors o'er, its labours done; Where waving boughs, betwixt the earth and sky, Admit the farewell radiance of the sun. Here the long concourse from the murmuring town, And in this hallow'd spot, where Nature showers Her summer smiles from fair and stainless skies, Affection's hand may strew her dewy flowers, Whose fragrant incense from the grave shall rise. And here the impressive stone, engraved with words Say, wherefore should we weep, and wherefore pour There is an emblem in this peaceful scene: THE WINGED WORSHIPPERS. Then, cold and pale, in distant vistas round, Disrobed and tuneless, all the woods will stand; Yet when the warm, soft winds shall rise in spring, So, when the tomb's dull silence finds an end, There shall the good of earth be found at last, 101 THE WINGED WORSHIPPERS. BY CHARLES SPRAGUE. Two swallows, having flown into church during divine service, were apostrophized in the following stanzas. GAY, guiltless pair, What seek ye from the fields of heaven? Ye have no need of prayer, Ye have no sins to be forgiven. Why perch ye here, Where mortals to their Maker bend? Can your pure spirits fear The God ye never could offend? |