Such was the vale. And then within it played Edward, a child, and Jane, a little maid. I see them now no more, where once they stood How like eternity doth Nature seem To life of man,-that short and fitful dream! I look around me; nowhere can I trace Lines of decay that mark our human race. These are the murmuring waters, these the flowers I mused o'er in my earlier, better hours. Like sounds and scents of yesterday they come: Long years have past since this was last my home! And I am weak, and toil-worn is my frame; But all the vale shuts in is still the same: 'Tis I alone am changed; they know me not: I feel a stranger, or as one forgot. DANA. A THE GLADNESS OF NATURE. 39 THE GLADNESS OF NATURE. Is this a time to be cloudy and sad, When our mother Nature laughs around; And gladness breathes from the blossoming ground? There are notes of joy from the hang-bird and wren, And the wilding bee hums merrily by. The clouds are at play in the azure space, And their shadows at play on the bright green vale; There's a dance of leaves in that aspen bower; There's a titter of winds in that beechen tree; There's a smile on the fruit, and a smile on the flower, And look at the broad-faced Sun, how he smiles BRYANT. THE SKIES. AY! gloriously thou standest there, With thy bright vault, and sapphire wall, Far, far below thee, tall old trees The eagle soars his utmost height, Yet far thou stretchest o'er his flight. Thou hast thy frowns-with thee on high The storm has made his airy seat; Beyond that soft blue curtain lie His stores of rain and sleet. Thence the consuming lightnings break, There the strong hurricanes awake. THE SKIES. Yet art thou prodigal of smiles— Smiles, sweeter than thy frowns are stern : Earth sends, from all her thousand isles, A shout at thy return. The glory that comes down from thee The sun, the gorgeous sun, is thine, The pomp that brings and shuts the day, Thence look the thoughtful stars, and there The sunny Italy may boast The beauteous tints that flush her skies; And lovely, round the Grecian coast, May thy blue pillars rise. I only know how fair they stand, And they are fair: a charm is theirs, That earth, the proud green earth, has not— With all the forms, and hues, and airs That haunt her sweetest spot. We gaze upon thy calm, pure sphere, And read of Heaven's eternal year. 4I |