JOHN GARDNER CALKINS BRAINARD. THE TREE TOAD. I AM a jolly tree toad, upon a chestnut tree; I chirp, because I know that the night was made for me; I'm lighted by the fire-fly, in circles wheeling round; The lights dance upward from the north, and cheer me with their beams; The dew of heaven, it comes to me as sweet as beauty's tear; The stars themselves shoot down to see what music we have here. The winds around me whisper to every flower that blows, To droop their heads, call in their sweets, and every leaf to close; The whip-poor-will sings to his mate the mellow melody: But, "Hark, and hear the notes that flow from yonder chestnut tree!" Ye caty-dids and whip-poor-wills! come listen to me now : I am a jolly tree toad upon a chestnut bough; I chirp because I know that the night was made for me,— And I close my proposition with a Q. E. D. THE NOSEGAY. I'LL pull a bunch of buds and flowers, If you'll but think, in your lonely hours, I'll cull the earliest that put forth, I've run about the garden walks, And search'd among the dew, Sir; So here's your bunch of buds and flowers, EPITHALAMIUM. I SAW two clouds at morning, I thought that morning cloud was blest, I saw two summer currents Flow smoothly to their meeting, And join their course with silent force, Calm was their course through banks of green, 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. STANZAS. THE dead leaves strew the forest walk, And autumn, with her yellow hours, I learn'd a clear and wild-toned note, There perch'd, and raised her song for me. Is vocal with the notes of love. Too mild the breath of southern sky, Finds leaves too green, and buds too fair; No mountain top, with sleety hair, Bends o'er the snows its reverend head. Go there, with all the birds, and seek A happier clime, with livelier flight; Kiss, with the sun, the evening's cheek, And leave me lonely with the night! I'll gaze upon the cold north light, And mark where all its glories shone,See-that it all is fair and bright, Feel-that it all is cold and gone. 45 EDWARD COATE PINKNEY. Born in London 1802-died 1828. A HEALTH. I FILL this cup to one made up Her every tone is music's own, Affections are as thoughts to her, The image of themselves by turns,— Of her bright face one glance will trace And of her voice in echoing hearts A sound must long remain; But memory, such as mine of her, When death is nigh my latest sigh Will not be life's, but hers. I fill this cup to one made up A woman, of her gentle sex Her health! and would on earth there stood That life might be all poetry, And weariness a name. ALBERT GORTON GREENE. Born at Providence, Rhode Island, 1802-died 1868. OLD GRIMES. OLD GRIMES is dead! that good old man He used to wear a long black coat, His heart was open as the day, His hair was some inclined to gray,- Whene'er he heard the voice of pain, His breast with pity burn'd; The large, round head upon From ivory was turn'd. his cane Kind words he ever had for all, His eyes were dark and rather small, He lived at peace with all mankind, His coat had pocket-holes behind, His pantaloons were blue. Unharm'd, the sin which earth pollutes He pass'd securely o'er ; And never wore a pair of boots For thirty years or more. |