(Original.)

THE VALLEY TRANSFORMED.

MARY SUSANNA HAYNES.

"'Twas a beautiful and peaceful little valley. Here rose a mosscovered hill, skirted by copsewood. Here stood a grove of majestic trees; and there lay the verdant meadows, sparkling with their flowery riches, each tender blade of grass laden with morn's 'pearly drop,' and glistening in the sun, which was just pouring upon the scene its most glowing rays. A little purling stream ran gurgling in the midst the freshness of spring breathed on all-and methought nature had never seemed more full of sweetness, or more laden with Love!

"But again I was there! and the blasts of winter were howling through the trees and the grass was brown, and the flowers had disappeared, and all looked cold, and bleak, and desolate; and I said within myself, fate of Man!'"

Such is the

OH! where are the youthful and blushing flowers
Which shone thro' the green o'erhanging bowers,
Which spangled the meadow, and bloom'd in the vale,
Sweetly scenting with fragrance the passing gale?
And where is the bright and emerald hue,
Which coloured with Hope's soft tints the view?

The tender bud from winter's night,

Just starting into life and light;
The unclosed leaf, as it graceful hung
In the golden beams of the glowing sun;
The morning hymn of the blythesome birds,
Or the distant low of the peaceful herds;

The sportive flies, as they glanced along,
With their airy forms, and their buzzing song,
Or the butterflies gay, as they bade unfold
Their wings of purple or shining gold?
Or where the violet's blushing hue,
All laden with glistening morning dew-
The primrose pale, or the starry gem,
The mead's peculiar diadem ?

Alas! with the soft airs of spring ye grew,
And on summer's swift pinions too quickly flew;

Ye have pass'd away with your beauty and light,
And left us obscured in winter's night.

The bright hues of hope are faded and gone,

The leaves are all wither'd-the flow'rs have flown,
And nature's gathering shades impart

A keener pang to the aching heart.

And thus does the spring-time of life pass by,

Its joys unshaded by tear or sigh,

Its flowers all fresh and its visions bright,

All radiance, and hope, and cloudless light:

No care to sully the golden dream,

Or sorrow to darken the spirit's beam.

Then the tempest comes threat'ning, and fierce, and loud,

And destruction hangs on each murky cloud;

And the smiling scene has passed away,

And twilight covers that hopeful day;

Or perchance the frost, with its biting breath,
The kindest and dearest hath wither'd in death,
Or affliction's blast, with its pitiless gloom,
Swept the sweetest and best to the desolate tomb!

But oh! 'tis not to Earth's deceitful spring,
That the spirit must surely and fondly cling!
It is not on lovely but fleeting dust

That the heart may repose its faithful trust;
To brighter scenes should it joyful fly,

To eternal spring in the vaulted sky,

Where the flowers ne'er fade, nor the leaves decay, But where shines enduring and blissful day!

D

THE DAISY.

ROBERT KAYE GREVILLE.

THERE is a little star-light flower,
With silver ray and golden eye,
short and humble stem,
Yet looking upwards to the sky.

And very

And soon as o'er the verdant plain

The life-inspiring sunbeams play, Ten thousand of these stars unfold

Their beauties to the new-born day.

But when dark cloud or chilling mist Comes o'er to dim the golden light, Each joyless flower its bosom shrouds,

And seems to vanish from the sight.

Nor till the bright reviving ray

Returns, as by a magic wand, To change the scene, will once again Its breast the lowly flower expand.

And thus will he of humble mind

Receive the light to mortals given; While to this spot of earth confined,

Still gaze upon the distant heaven.

When for his sin God turns away,

He faint and trembling bows his head, And sinks at his Redeemer's feet,

As one in sins and frailty dead.

But in the sinner's weakness strong,

The Saviour, from his throne above, Pours on the now rejoicing heart,

The Spirit's strength, the Saviour's love.