WITH WILD FLOWERS TO A SICK SISTER.

RISE from the dells where ye first were born,
From the tangled beds of the weed and thorn;
Rise, for the dews of the morn are bright,
And haste away with your brows of light-
Should the green-house patricians with gathering

frown

On your plebeian vestures look haughtily down, Shrink not-for His finger your heads hath bowed,

Who heeds the lowly, and humbles the proud,-
The tardy spring, and the frosty sky,

Have meted your robes with a miser's eye,
And check'd the blush of your blossoms free,-
With a gentler friend your home shall be;
To a kinder ear you may tell your tale
Of the zephyr's kiss and the scented vale,—
Ye are charmed, ye are charmed, and your fra-
grant sigh

Is health to the bosom on which ye die.

SIGOURNEY.

66

MOTHER, WHAT IS DEATH?

“MOTHER, how still the baby lies!
I cannot hear his breath;

I cannot see his laughing eyes—
They tell me this is death.

"My little work I thought to bring,
And sat down by his bed,
And pleasantly I tried to sing-
They hushed me-he is dead.

66 They say that he again will rise More beautiful than now,

That God will bless him in the skiesO, mother, tell me how."

“Daughter, do you remember, dear, The cold, dark thing you brought And laid upon the casement hereA withered worm you thought?

"I told you that Almighty power Could break that withered shell, And show you, in a future hour,

Something would please you well.

74

MOTHER, WHAT IS DEATH?

"Look at the chrysalis, my love

An empty shell it lies;

Now raise your wondering glance above
To where yon insect flies!"

"O yes, mamma, how very gay
Its wings of starry gold.
And see, it lightly flies away
Beyond my gentle hold.

"O mother, now I know full well,
If God that worm can change,
And draw it from this broken cell,
On golden wings to range,-

"How beautiful will brother be,
When God shall give him wings,
Above this dying world to flee,
And live with heavenly things."

GILMAN.

LINES,

WRITTEN FOR A SOCIETY WHOSE MOTTO WAS

66 FRIENDSHIP, LOVE, AND TRUTH."

WHEN "Friendship, Love, and Truth" abound
Among a band of Brothers,

The cup of joy goes gaily round,
Each shares the bliss of others:

Sweet roses grace the thorny way
Along this vale of sorrow;

The flowers that shed their leaves to-day
Shall bloom again to-morrow.

How grand in age, how fair in youth,
Are holy "Friendship, Love, and Truth."

On halcyon wings our moments pass,
Life's cruel cares beguiling;

Old Time lays down his scythe and glass,
In gay good humour smiling;
With ermine beard and forelock grey,

His reverend front adorning,
He looks like winter turn'd to May,

Night soften'd into morning.

How grand in age, how fair in youth,

Are holy"Friendship, Love, and Truth."

76

THE DYING GIRL.

From these, delightful fountains flow,
Ambrosial rills of pleasure;

Can man desire, can Heaven bestow,
A more resplendent treasure;
Adorned with gems so richly bright,
We'll form a constellation,

Where every star, with modest light,
Shall gild his proper station.

How grand in age, how fair in youth,
Are holy"Friendship, Love, and Truth."

MONTGOMERY.

THE DYING GIRL.

SISTER, Death's veil is gathering fast,
The chilly seal has marked my brow,
This young heart's mournful dream is past.
The golden cords are severing now.

The spirit of the tear-gemmed throne
Bounds o'er me with angelic light;
And Mercy on Love's wings hath flown
To guide my soul's mysterious flight.

I leave thee, sister-thee, the last,
A lone one, drooping 'mid the dead-
A bud, o'er whose pale leaf is cast

The light from sorrow's pinion shed.