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THE BACKWOODSMAN.

I look around to where the sky
Meets the far forest line,
And this imperial domain-

This kingdom-all is mine.

This bending heaven, these floating clouds,
Waters that ever roll,

And wilderness of glory, bring

Their offerings to my soul.

My palace, built by God's own hand,
The world's fresh prime hath seen;
Wide stretch its living halls away,
Pillar'd and roof'd with green.
My music is the wind that now
Pours loud its swelling bars,
Now lulls in dying cadences,
My festal lamps are stars.

Though when in this, my lonely home,
My star-watch'd couch I press,

I hear no fond "good night”—think not
I am companionless.

O, no! I see my father's house,

The hill, the tree, the stream,

And the looks and voices of my home
Come gently to my dream.

And in these solitary haunts,
While slumbers every tree
In night and silence, GOD himself
Seems nearer unto me.

I feel His presence in these shades,

Like the embracing air;

And as my eyelids close in sleep,
My heart is hush'd in prayer.

217

JUNE.

BY WILLIAM H. BURLEIGH.

JUNE, with its roses-June!

The gladdest month of our capricious year,
With its thick foliage and sunlight clear;
And with the drowsy tune

Of the bright leaping waters, as they pass
Laughingly on amid the springing grass!

Earth, at her joyous coming,

Smiles as she puts her gayest mantle on ;
And Nature greets her with a benison;
While myriad voices, humming

Their welcome song, breathe dreamy music round,
Till seems the air an element of sound.

The overarching sky

Weareth a softer tint, a lovelier blue,

As if the light of heaven were melting through
Its sapphire home on high;

Hiding the sunshine in their vapoury breast,
The clouds float on like spirits to their rest.

A deeper melody,

Pour'd by the birds, as o'er their callow young
Watchful they hover, to the breeze is flung-
Gladsome, yet not of glee-

Music heart-born, like that which mothers sing
Above their cradled infants slumbering.

JUNE.

On the warm hill-side, where

The sunlight lingers latest, through the grass
Peepeth the luscious strawberry! As they pass,
Young children gambol there,

Crushing the gather'd fruit in playful mood,
And staining their bright faces with its blood.

A deeper blush is given

To the half-ripen'd cherry, as the sun

Day after day pours warmth the trees upon,
Till the rich pulp is riven;

The truant schoolboy looks with longing eyes,
And perils limb and neck to win the prize.

The farmer, in his field,

Draws the rich mould around the tender maize;
While Hope, bright-pinion'd, points to coming days,
When all his toil shall yield

An ample harvest, and around his hearth
There shall be laughing eyes and tones of mirth.

Poised on his rainbow-wing,

The butterfly, whose life is but an hour,
Hovers coquettishly from flower to flower,
A gay and happy thing;

Born for the sunshine and the summer-day,
Soon passing, like the beautiful, away!

These are thy pictures, June!

219

Brightest of summer-months-thou month of flowers! First-born of beauty, whose swift-footed hours

Dance to the merry tune

Of birds, and waters, and the pleasant shout
Of childhood on the sunny hills peal'd out.

220

MYSTERIOUS MUSIC OF OCEAN.

I feel it were not wrong

To deem thou art a type of heaven's clime,
Only that there the clouds and storms of time
Sweep not the sky along;

The flowers-air-beauty-music-all are thine,
But brighter-purer-lovelier-more divine!

MYSTERIOUS MUSIC OF OCEAN.

BY CARTER MORRIS.

"And the people of this place say, that, at certain seasons, beautiful sounds are heard from the ocean."-MAVOR's Voyages.

LONELY and wild it rose,

That strain of solemn music from the sea,
As though the bright air trembled to disclose
An ocean mystery.

Again a low, sweet tone,

Fainting in murmurs on the listening day,
Just bade the excited thought its presence own,
Then died away.

Once more the gush of sound,
Struggling and swelling from the heaving plain,
Thrill'd a rich peal triumphantly around,

And fled again.

O, boundless deep! we know

Thou hast strange wonders in thy gloom conceal'd,
Gems, flashing gems, from whose unearthly glow

Sunlight is seal'd.

221

MYSTERIOUS MUSIC OF OCEAN.

And an eternal spring

Showers her rich colours with unsparing hand,
Where coral trees their graceful branches fling
O'er golden sand.

But tell, O, restless main!

Who are the dwellers in thy world beneath,
That thus the watery realm cannot contain
The joy they breathe?

Emblem of glorious might!

Are thy wild children like thyself array'd,
Strong in immortal and uncheck'd delight,
Which cannot fade?

Or to mankind allied,

Toiling with woe, and passion's fiery sting,
Like their own home, where storms or peace preside,
As the winds bring?

Alas for human thought!

How does it flee existence, worn and old,
To win companionship with beings wrought
Of finer mould!

'Tis vain-the reckless waves

Join with loud revel the dim ages flown,

But keep each secret of their hidden caves
Dark and unknown.

19*

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