Where we have seen the waving corn-fields bend,
And twined bright garlands of the harvest flowers,
And watched the gleaners with their golden store-
There we shall meet no more.

Not in the well-remembered hall of mirth,

Where at the evening hour each heart rejoices, And friends and kindred crowd the social hearth, And the glad breathings of young happy voices, Strains of sweet melody in concert pour

There we shall meet no more.

Not in the haunts of busy strife, which bind
Thy soaring spirit to base mammon's toil;
Where the revealings of thy gifted mind
Exhaust their glories on a barren soil,
With few to praise, to wonder, or deplore-
There we shall meet no more.

Yet mourn not thus: in realms of changeless gladness,
Where friendship's ties are never crushed and broken,
We still may meet: Heaven, who beholds our sadness,
Hath to the trusting heart assurance spoken
Of that blest land, where, free from care and pain,
Fond friends unite again.

STANLEY.

INVOCATION TO NIGHT.

COME, solemn Night, and spread thy pall

Wide o'er the slumbering shore and sea,

And hang along thy vaulted hall

The star-lights of eternity;

Thy beacons, beautiful and bright-
Isles in the ocean of the blest-
That guide the parted spirit's flight
Unto the land of rest.

Come-for the evening glories fade,

Quenched in the ocean's depths profound; Come with thy solitude and shade,

Thy silence and thy sound;
Awake the deep and lonely lay

From wood and stream, of saddening tone;
The harmonies unheard by day,
The music all thine own!

And with thy starry eyes that weep
Their silent dews on flower and tree,
My heart shall solemn vigils keep-
My thoughts converse with thee;
Upon whose glowing page expand
The revelations of the sky;
Which knowledge teach to every land,
Of man's high destiny.

For while the mighty orbs of fire

(So wildly bright they seem to live)

Feel not the beauty they inspire,
Nor see the light they give;
Even I, an atom of the earth,
Itself an atom 'midst the frame
Of nature-can inquire their birth,
And ask them whence they came.

MALCOLM. NIGHT.

O NIGHT! how beautiful thy golden dress,

On which so many stars like gems are strewed,

So mild and modest in thy loveliness,

So bright, so glorious in thy solitude!

The soul soars upwards on its holy wings,
Through the vast ocean-paths of light sublime,
Visits a thousand yet unravelled things;

And, if its memories look to earthly time
And earthly interests, 'tis as in a dream-
For earth and earthly things but shadows seem;
While heaven is substance, and eternity.

That is thy temple, Lord! 'tis worthy thee, And in it thou hast many a lamp suspended,

That dazzles not, but lights resplendently; And there thy court is there thy court, attended By myriad, myriad messengers-the song Of countless and melodious harps is heard, Sweeter than rill, or stream, or vernal bird, The dark and melancholy woods among. And golden worlds in that wide temple glow, And roll in brightness, in their orbits vast, And there the future mingles with the past, An unbeginning, an unending Now.

BOWRING. WELCOME TO MAY.

COME, gentle May!

Come with thy robe of flowers,

Come with thy sun and sky, thy clouds and showers;

Come, and bring forth unto the eye of day, From their imprisoning and mysterious night, The buds of many hues, the children of thy light.

Come, wondrous May!

For, at the bidding of thy magic wand,
Quick from the caverns of the breathing land,

In all their green and glorious array
They spring, as spring the Persian maids to hail
Thy flushing footsteps in Cashmerian vale.

Come, vocal May!

Come with thy train, that high

On some fresh branch pour out their melody;

Or, carolling thy praise the livelong day, Sit perched in some lone glen, on echo calling, 'Mid murmuring woods and musical waters falling.

Come, sunny May!
Come with thy laughing beam,
What time the lazy mist melts on the stream,

Or seeks the mountain-top to meet thy ray,
Ere yet the dew-drop on thine own soft flower
Hath lost its light, or died beneath his power.

Come, beautiful May!
Like youth and loveliness,

The month all love; oh, come in thy full dress,
The drapery of dark winter cast away;

To the bright eye and the glad heart appear
Queen of the spring, and mistress of the year.

Yet let me, sweetest May!

Let thy fond votaries see,

As fade thy beauties, all the vanity

Of this world's pomp; then teach, that though decay

In his short winter bury beauty's frame,

In fairer worlds the soul shall break his sway,

Another spring shall bloom, eternal and the same.

LAWRENCE.

THE SEA.

FROM shore to shore the waters sleep,
Without a breath to move them;
And mirror many a fathom deep
Rocks round and skies above them.
I catch the sea-bird's lightest wail
That dots the distant billow,
And hear the flappings of the sail
That lull the sea-boy's pillow.

Anon, across the glassy bay,

The catspaw gusts come creeping;

A thousand waves are soon at play,

In sunny freshness leaping.

The surge once more talks round the shore,

The good ship walks the ocean;

Seas, skies, and men, all wake again
To music, health, and motion.