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POEMS, TALES, AND SONGS.

There flies o'er the forest a sigh,—

A sound as from nature in pain;
The storm is approaching—it lifteth on high,
A voice like the moan of the main.

Invisible hands of the blast

Clap loudly as if for a song; The leaves of the trees to the tempest are cast, And scornfully carried along.

"How's this?"—saith the storm in its boom"How! trees of the forest and field! Why hail ye not me in your better-day bloom,— The same ye to summer reveal'd ?”

"How can we, for cold winter's sake,

How can we ?" the woodlands reply; The sere leaves that autumn had left us, you take And cast in the face of the sky!"

O, hearts truly cheerful and mild,

Win joy in its summer-time form; But wind-sowing spirits—the dark and the wildWhat else should they reap but the storm?

HEAVEN FOR HOME.

By day and dark, in ever during motion,
Over the surface of the rolling years,

As on a stream, we pass from birth to death,
Nowhere abiding.

Nay, it matters not

That some of us have by inheritance
Taken possession of material wealth,
Sufficient for a host of generations;
Or may, by clever management, have turned
Mountains and rivers into solid gold,

And walled the wealth up half as high as heaven; That would not purchase immortality,

Or buy us an abiding place on earth.

Wealth, skill, and might, combined, have wonders done :

And as they have performed what once was thought

To be impossible, so may they yet

Undreamt-of wonders do. In the wild wood,

Arm'd with an ugly club, or uncouth spear,
Or bow and arrows; dwelling in a den,

Or cavern, or the hollow of a tree,

The savage never thought the time would come

K

When his successors from fair palaces

Of wealth, and skill, and might, combined, would

send

The light'ning on their errands, and command
The flame and flood to bear them o'er the earth,
With flight of earnest winds, yet safely bear,
As children carried in the arms of care,—
And yet these wonders are!

More yet will be,—

More than the mind of science has conceived,
Or had a light'ning glance of, even in dream.
But never in the rounds of rolling years,
However much in careful search assisted
By the fair light of science full and clear,—
The cheering hope of permanent reward,
And might's right hand,—may man by seeking

find

A house on earth that time will not take down,

Or turn him out of. But a happy home

Of everlasting walls is built above,

And we

are wanted there - even

there!

heaven!

The voice of cheerful morn is heard,
Thus calling" Children, hither!"
Is free compliance long deferred?
No! see them running thither!

Gay hours attend-a sunbright band-
Like servants placed at their command,—
And merrily they roam!

Not long!-the hours-no longer gay,

But darkly sullen,—disobey;

Then trouble comes, and then dismay,
And then they think of home!

A louder voice, in after years,
Calls-"Hither come, come hither!"
And, lo! a light of gold appears
To point the million thither!
Like earnest giants, hosts arise,
The dangers of the strife despise,
Scorn surly ocean's foam;

For, in the distance, dimly seen,
Loom lofty heights of wealth serene;
But oft, the weary way between,
They, halting, think of home.

Again, a glorious voice is heard,
Thus calling" All, come hither!”
But how compliance is deferr'd,
Though wisdom pointeth thither!
up to pleasures ever new,
To royal realms of treasures true,

And

Whence none could wish to roam,

That voice inviteth, day by day;
While light, that never leads astray,
And angel-warblings, cheer the way,
And songs of HEAVEN FOR HOME!

THE HARP OF THE BEAUTIFUL.

WHEN the young Spring appears, calming the strife again,

Of the rude winter realm-region of shadow; When the bright spirit comes, lighting with life

again,

Eden-ground, river-land, woodland and meadow: Then from the darkness come visions of joy again! Come as the happy come-happy as dutiful! Then doth the aged man feel like a boy again; While the child sings to the Harp of the beautiful.

Harp of the beautiful, give to the gale of balm, Heart-moving measures like love's early story; Harp of the beautiful, tell to the vale of calm,

Tidings of gladness in music of glory! Let there be joy that the whisper of life is heard,

Soft as the breathing south, bringing it nearer; Let there be joy that the bloom, and the song

bird,

Cheerfully grow to be fairer and clearer!

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