TO THE CUCKOO.

O BLITHE New-comer! I have heard,
I hear thee and rejoice;

O Cuckoo! shall I call thee bird,
Or but a wandering voice?

While I am lying on the grass,
Thy loud note smites my ear!
From hill to hill it seems to pass,

At once far off and near!

I hear thee babbling to the vale

Of sunshine and of flowers;

And unto me thou bring'st a tale

Of visionary hours.

Thrice welcome, darling of the Spring!

Even yet thou art to me

No bird, but an invisible thing,

A voice, a mystery;

The same who in my schoolboy days

I listened to; that cry

Which made me look a thousand ways

In bush, and tree, and sky.

To seek thee did I often rove
Through woods and on the green;
And thou wert still a hope, a love;
Still longed for, never seen!

And I can listen to thee yet ;

Can lie upon the plain

And listen, till I do beget

That golden time again.

O blessed Bird! the earth we pace

Again appears to be

An unsubstantial, fairy place;

That is fit home for thee!

WORDSWORTH.

It is not only in the sacred fane

That homage should be paid to the Most High;
There is a temple, one not made with hands—
The vaulted firmament: Far in the woods,
Almost beyond the sound of city chime,
At intervals heard through the breezeless air;
When not the limberest leaf is seen to move,
Save where the linnet lights upon the spray;
When not a floweret bends its little stalk,
Save where the bee alights upon the bloom;
There, rapt in gratitude, in joy, and love,
The man of God will pass the Sabbath noon;
Silence his praise.

GRAHAME.

RUTH.

BENEATH her father's roof, alone

She seemed to live; her thoughts her own; Herself her own delight:

Pleased with herself, nor sad, nor gay,

She passed her time; and in this way
Grew up to woman's height.

There came a youth from Georgia's shore A military casque he wore,

With splendid feathers drest;

He brought them from the Cherokees;
The feathers nodded in the breeze,
And made a gallant crest.

Among the Indians he had fought,
And with him many tales he brought

Of pleasure and of fear;

Such tales as told to any maid

By such a Youth, in the green shade,

Were perilous to hear.

And then he said, "How sweet it were

A fisher or a hunter there,

A gardener in the shade,

Still wandering with an easy mind,

To build a household fire, and find
A home in every glade!

"Sweet Ruth! and could you go with me
My helpmate in the woods to be,

Our shed at night to rear;
Or run, my own adopted bride,
A sylvan huntress at my side,
And drive the flying deer!