SUMMER LONGINGS. AH! my heart is weary waiting, Waiting for the pleasant rambles, Where the fragrant hawthorn brambles, Scent the dewy way. Ah! my heart is weary waiting, Ah! my heart is sick with longing, Longing to escape from study, To the young face fair and ruddy, And the thousand charms belonging To the summer's day. Ah! my heart is sick with longing, Longing for the May. Ah! my heart is sore with sighing, Sighing for their sure returning, When the summer beams are burning, Hopes and flowers, that dead or dying, All the winter lay. Ah! my heart is sore with sighing, Sighing for the May. Ah! my heart is pained with throbbing, Throbbing for the May Throbbing for the sea-side billows, Or the water-wooing willows; Where in laughing and in sobbing, Glide the streams away. Ah! my heart, my heart is throbbing, Waiting sad, dejected, weary, Waiting for the May. Spring goes by with wasted warnings- Life still ebbs away; Man is ever weary, weary, Waiting for the May! ANONYMOUS. EVENING THOUGHTS. "TWAS eve. The length'ning shadows of the oak Of woodmen at their toil; the feeble wail The sun had set; but his expiring beams Yet lingered in the west, and shed around Beauty and softness o'er the wood and streains, With coming night's first tinge of shade imbrowned. The light clouds mingled, brightened with such gleams Of glory as the seraph-shapes surround, That in the vision of the good descend, 'Tis thus in solitude; but sweeter far, By those we love, in that all-soft'ning hour, To watch with mutual eyes each coming star, And the faint moon-rays streaming through our bower Of foliage, wreathed and trembling, as the car Of night rolls duskier onward, and each flower And shrub that droops above us, on the sense Seems dropping fragrance more and more intense. ANONYMOUS. "BLESSED ARE THEY THAT HAVE NOT SEEN, AND YET HAVE BELIEVED." WE saw thee not, when Thou didst tread, O Saviour, this our sinful earth; Nor heard thy voice restore the dead, We were not with the faithful few, No angel's message met our ear, "The Lord is risen. He is not here; We saw Thee not return on high; But we believe that Thou art there, ANONYMOUS. PRAYER. Go when the morning shineth, Go when the day declineth, Remember all who love thee, Thy great Redeemer's name. Or if 'tis e'er denied thee In solitude to pray, Should holy thoughts come o'er thee, Of thy spirit raised above, Oh, not a joy or blessing With this can we compare, The power that he hath given us To pour our souls in prayer! Whene'er thou pin'st in sadness, Before his footstool fall, And remember in thy gladness, His grace who gives thee all. ANONYMOUS. THERE IS A TONGUE IN EVERY LEAF. THERE is a tongue in every leaf, A voice in every rill A voice that speaketh everywhere, In flood and fire, through earth and air! A tongue that's never still! 'Tis the Great Spirit, wide diffused Through everything we see, |