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THE MORNING-GLORY.

My cheeks betray the rush of rapture
Her coming brings to me!

She tarries long: but lo, a whisper
Beyond the open door!

And, gliding through the quiet sunshine,
A shadow on the floor!

Ah! 'tis the whispering pine that calls me,
The vine whose shadow strays;

And my patient heart must still await her,
Nor chide her long delays.

But my heart grows sick with weary waiting,
As many a time before:

Her foot is ever at the threshold,

Yet never passes o'er.

THE MORNING-GLORY.

So always, from that happy time,
We called her by their name;
And very fitting did it seem,

For sure as morning came,
Behind her cradle bars she smiled

To catch the first faint ray,

As from the trellis smiles the flower
And opens to the day.

But not so beautiful they rear
Their airy cups of blue,

As turned her sweet eyes to the light,
Brimmed with sleep's tender dew;

And not so close their tendrils fine
Round their supports are thrown,
As those dear arms whose outstretched plea
Clasped all hearts to her own.

We used to think how she had come,
Even as comes the flower:

The last and perfect added gift

To crown Love's morning hour;
And how in her was imaged forth
The love we could not say,
As on the little dew-drops round
Shines back the heart of day.

We never could have thought, O God!
That she must wither up,
Almost before a day was flown,

Like the morning-glory's cup;

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The morning-glory's blossoming
Will soon be coming round;

We see their rows of heart-shaped leaves
Upspringing from the ground;
The tender things the Winter killed
Renew again their birth.

But the glory of our morning

Has passed away from earth.

O Earth! in vain our aching eyes
Stretch over thy green plain!

Too harsh thy dews, too gross thine air,

Her spirit to sustain!

But up in groves of Paradise

Full surely we shall see

Our morning-glory beautiful

Twine round our dear Lord's knee.

MARIA WHITE LOWELL.

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EDWARD, EDWARD.

I thought that morning cloud was blest,
It moved so sweetly to the west.

I saw two summer currents

Flow smoothly to their meeting,

And join their course with silent force,

In peace each other greeting;

Calm was their course through banks of green,
While dimpling eddies played between.

Such be your gentle motion,

Till life's last pulse shall beat;

Like Summer's beam, and Summer's stream,

Float on in joy, to meet

A calmer sea, where storms shall cease,

A purer sky, where all is peace.

JOHN GARDNER CALKINS BRAINARD.

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EDWARD, EDWARD.

QUHY dois zour brand sae drap wi' bluid,

Edward, Edward?

Quhy dois zour brand sae drap wi' bluid,

And quhy sae sad gang zee O?”

"O I hae killed my hauke sae guid,

Mither, mither:

◇ I hae killed my hauke sae guid,

And I had nae mair bot hee O.