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VIRTUE. —George Herbert.
Sweet day, so cool, so calm, so bright,
For thou must die.
Sweet rose, whose hue, angry and brave,
And thou must die.
Sweet spring, full of sweet days and roses,
And all must die.
Then chiefly lives.
ETHEREAL minstrel ! pilgrim of the sky !
TO THE BRAMBLE-FLOWER.
Yet might'st thou seem, proud privilege! to sing
Leave to the nightingale her shady wood, -
TO THE BBAMBLE-FLOWER. - Elliott.
Thy fruit full well the schoolboy knows,
Wild bramble of the brake !
I love it for his sake.
O'er all the fragrant bowers,
Thy: satin-threaded flowers ;
That cannot feel how fair,
Thy tender blossoms are !
How rich thy branchy stem!
And thou sing'st hymns to them ;
And, ʼmid the general hush,
Lone whispering through the bush!
The hawthorn-flower is dead;
The violet by the mossed gray stone
Hath laid her weary head ;
In all their beauteous power,
And boyhood's blossomy hour.
Thou bidd'st me be a boy,
In freedom and in joy.
LINES WRITTEN IN A HIGHLAND GLEN. - Wilson
To whom belongs this valley fair,
Even like a living thing?
That streamlet's murmuring !
The heavens appear to love this vale ;
Or 'mid the silence lie!
Seems bound unto the sky.
O, that this lovely vale were mine!
My years would gently glide ;
By peace be sanctified.
THE EVENING RAINBOW.
There would unto my soul be given,
A piety sublime !
And did I ask to whom belonged
Nature's most gracious soul !
Are joint heirs of the whole !
Yea, long as Nature's humblest child
By sinful sacrifice ;
Is built amid the skies !
THE EVENING RAINBOW. - Southey.
Mild arch of promise ! on the evening sky
Such is the smile that piety bestows
BOOK OF THE WORLD.
Of this fair volume which we
66 World” do name, If we the sheets and leaves could turn with care Of Him who it corrects, and did it frame, We clear might read the art and wisdom rare, Find out his power,
which wildest powers doth tame, His providence, - extending everywhere, His justice, - which proud rebels doth not spare, In every page, no period of the same! But silly we, like foolish children, rest Well pleased with colored vellum, leaves of gold, Fair, dangling ribands, leaving what is best, On the great Writer's sense ne'er taking hold ; Or if by chance we stay our minds on aught, It is some picture on the margin wrought.
THE SKYLARK. – Hogg.
BIRD of the wilderness,
Blithesome and cumberless,
Emblem of happiness,
Blest is thy dwelling-place,0, to abide in the desert with thee!