TO THE SKY-LARK.

POETS of mean and prouder name

In thee have found abundant scope,

To foster at the shrine of Fame

The promise of their brightest hope:

For thou art Nature's living star

That ministers to earth and sky,

In livelier images by far

Than other birds that wing us by.

While yet the Earth in darkness veils The offspring of her timely care,

And but a vagrant note assails

The silence of the midnight air,—

Impatient dost thou count the hours

That intercept the pleasing sight Of joyous fields adorned with flowers,

Expanding to the blaze of light.

And faithful to the morning Sun,

Before his beams are yet displayed,

Through busy mazes dost thou run
To whisper of departing shade:
Then mounting up with graceful wing,
To catch the first impinging ray,

With envied fervour dost thou sing
The glories of the rising day.

Descending next the liquid plains,

As though a heavenly missive fell, To guide the feet of simple swains Where only true enjoyments dwell;

Thy interchange of mirth awhile

With her that waits the glad return,

Bids uncorrupted Nature smile,

And man with homely passion burn.

The scene dissolved, ah! who but they
That move in so divine a sphere,

Can tell how sweet the fruits of May
To thee on soaring wings appear;

When every glittering dew-drop shines
Translucent as the fairest gem,

That happily with art combines

To grace the richest diadem!

While nurtured by the floating cloud,
And gazing on the bright expanse

Of Earth and sky, what beauties crowd
Upon thee at a moment's glance !

"Tis more than heaven thus high to range,

And carol in thy wonted strain,

And feel that when disposed to change,

Thou yet canst soon the earth regain.

SONNET.

ON SEEING A COMB FALL OFTEN FROM

A LADY'S HAIR.

АH! luckless comb: inexorable fate

Preserves thee as a type of one whose vain

Ambition to secure some high estate

Decrees him but a transitory reign.

To hold in custody, exempt from pain,

While interested in the stern debate,

The tresses which invest that fruitful brain

Would task a genius profoundly great.

Electrical with mind, the silken hair

That beautifies the lovely maiden's head,

Repudiates the soft artistic care

With which adornings are around it spread,—

And flows respondent to the boundless soul

That bends all others to its just control.

OH! HAD I NOT TASTED.

OH! had I not tasted the sweets of that kiss,

Which in passion's adventure I sought for in thee, My soul had not known the full measure of bliss

That the Goddess of Love had reserved unto me.

Through seasons of pleasure alternately changing

With grief as the light does of heaven with gloom, Did I look for an image like thine till in ranging The earth I exhausted my juvenile bloom.

And when gathering sorrows revealed the sad story That youth and expectancy both had declined, Thou didst rise as a star in the path-way of glory, And cast thine effulgence direct on my mind.

With fondness I welcome the lustre while playing In all its divine coruscations of light;

And would gladly surrender my soul in repaying

Thy presence with kisses from morn until night.