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Its leaf, though late in spring it shares
The zephyr's gentle sigh,
A deeper, richer dye.
It opes not at a breath,
Until it sinks in death.
Its acorns, graceful to the sight,
Are toys to childhood dear;
Adds mirth to Christmas cheer.
Worn out with care or ill,
Its arms are open still.
But prouder yet its glories shine,
When, in a nobler form,
And braves the bursting storm;
To some benighted clime
Of Gospel-truths sublime.
Oh! then triumphant in its might,
O’er waters dim and dark,
A second glorious ark.
Man's castle on the sea!
BARTON. SIGNS OF RAIN.
TAE hollow winds begin to blow,
nd seem precipitate to fall,
-’T will surely rain, I see with sorrow Our jaunt must be put off to-morrow.
INSTRUCTION SOUGHT FROM THE BEE.
Buzzing insect, busy creature,
I would know thy wondrous skill, Thou dost roam o'er blooming nature,
And thy hive with honey fill. Dost thou toil through every hour? Dost thou gain from every flower ?
Let me learn of thee.
Teach me, sweetest insect flying
How like thee to choose the best; Thou that dost, thy tribe outvying,
Live to work, but die to rest : When
time on earth shall end, What may then my
soul befriend? Let me learn of thee. Varied plants, with mingled odours,
Nature oft presents below; Some may please, yet some forebode us;
Teach me these in truth to know. Skill is thine t'extract the sweet Patience thine, the toil to greet :
Let me learn of thee.
Man, arise! thy sun is shining;
Lose not time in sinful ease; Prudence with thy skill combining,
Ills escape and blessings seize. Sweets
dwell with lowly flowers, Poisons hide in fragrant bowers.
Stoop, and learn of me. 6. Flowers unnumber'd make me wander ;
One alone might thee avail : See that Rose of Sharon yonder,
Try yon Lily of the Vale.
Sacred perfume there is found,
Haste, and learn of me.
“ Man, be wise, thy days are flitting;
Health, and strength, and means will end ; Strive to gain what's most befitting,
Peaceful then to rest descend. Lo! a brighter day shall rise Scenes unfading greet thine eyes, Verdant, 'neath immortal skies. Think, and learn of me.”
PARAPHRASE OF JOB XIV.
How few and evil are thy days,
Man, of a woman born!
Forth, like a flower at morn,
Youth blossoms with the breeze,
Man like a shadow flees.
And dost Thou look on such an one?
Will God to judgment call
Against the Lord of all ?
As summer brooks run dry,
Our life is vanity.
Man lieth down, no more to wake,
Till yonder arching sphere
And nature disappear.
Thou, who canst kill or save;
TO THE REDBREAST.
Sweet little bird in russet coat,
The livery of the closing year, I love thy lonely, plaintive note,
And tiny whispering song to hear. As on the stile or garden-seat
I sit, to watch the falling leaves, Thy pleasant carol seems more sweet
While pensive nature grieves.
Ah! many are the lonely minds
That hear and welcome thee anew,High-cultur'd souls, and humble hinds,
Delight to praise, and love thee too : The veriest clown beside his cart
Turns from his song with many a smile, To see thee from the hedge-row start
And sing upon the stile.
The shepherd on the fallen tree
Drops down, to listen to thy lay, And chides his dog beside his knee,
Who barks and frightens thee away.