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Hear the wood-lark charm the forest,
Telling o'er his little joys; Hapless bird ! a prey the surest
To each pirate of the skies.
Dearly bought the hidden treasure
Finer feelings can bestow; Chords that vibrate sweetest pleasure
Thrill the deepest notes of woe.
TO BLOSSOMS. --- Herrick.
Fair pledges of a fruitful tree,
Why do ye fall so fast?
Your date is not so past, But
you may stay yet here a while To blush and gently smile,
Then go at last.
What! were ye born to be
An hour or half's delight,
And so to bid good-night? 'Twas pity Nature brought ye forth Merely to show your worth,
And lose you quite.
But you are lovely leaves, where we
May read how soon things have
Their end, though ne'er so brave And after they have shown their pride,
Like you, a while, they glide
Into the grave.
BURIAL OF THE MIINNISINK.
THERE are gold-brigat suns in worlds above,
BURIAL OF THE MINNISINK. - Longfellow.
On sunny slope and beechen swell
Far upward in the rellow light
But soon a funeral hymn was heard
They sang, that by his native bowers
A dark cloak of the roebuck's skin
Before, a dark-haired virgin train
Stripped of his proud and martial dress,
They buried the dark chief; they freed
HEAVEN.- From Feslus.
Is heaven a place where pearly streams
Glide over silver sand?
Of some far fairy land ?
Is heaven a clime where diamond dews
Glitter on fadeless flowers,
From amaranthine bowers ?
Ah no; not such, not such is heaven!
Surpassing far all these;
Man's wearied soul to please.
For saints and sinners here below,
Such vain to be have proved ;
What'er the sense has loved.
There shall we dwell with Sire and Son,
And with the Mother-maid,
In glory like arrayed;
And not to one created thing
Shall one embrace be given;
For only God is heaven.
ARNOLD WINKELRIED. -- Montgomery.
MAKE way for liberty !” he cried ; Made way for liberty, and died !-
It must not be ; this day, this hour,
freeman was a host,
It did depend on one indeed; Behold him, Arnold Winkelried ! There sounds not to the trump of fame The echo of a nobler name. Unmarked he stood amid the throng, In rumination deep and long, Till you might see, with sudden grace, The very thought come o'er his face ; And, by the motion of his form, Anticipate the rising storm; And, by the uplifting of his brow, Tell where the bolt would strike, and how.
But ’t was no sooner thought than done! The field was in a moment won: “ Make way for liberty !” he cried, Then ran, with arms extended wide, As if his dearest friend to clasp; Ten spears he swept within his grasp: “ Make way for liberty!” he cried, Their keen points met from side to side;