O

THE LADY ROSE.

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THE LADY ROSE.

WHY better than the lady rose
Love I this little flower?
Because its fragrant leaves are those
I loved in childhood's hour.

Let Nature spread her loveliest,
By spring or summer nursed;
Yet still I love the violet best,
Because I loved it first!

Thou beautiful new-comer,
With white and maiden brow,
Thou fairy gift from summer,
Why art thou blooming now?

No sweet companion pledges
Thy health as dew-drops pass;

No rose is on the hedges,

No violet in the grass.

Thou art watching, and thou only,
Above the earth's snow-tomb;

Thus lovely and thus lonely,

I bless thee for thy bloom.

THE BIRD AT SEA.

BIRD of the greenwood,
O, why art thou here?
Leaves dance not o'er thee,
Flowers bloom not near.

All the sweet waters

Far hence at playBird of the greenwood, Away, away!

Where the mast quivers,
Thy place will not be,
As 'midst the waving

Of wild rose and tree.

How shouldst thou battle

With storm and with spray?

Bird of the greenwood,
Away, away!

Or art thou seeking

Some brighter land,

Where, by the south wind,

Vine leaves are fanned?

'Midst the wild billows,

Why then delay?

Bird of the greenwood,
Away, away!

"Chide not my lingering
Where storms are dark;
A hand that hath nursed me
Is in the bark;

A heart that hath cherished

Through winter's long day;
So I turn from the greenwood;
Away, away!"

A SIMILE.

As summer birds and summer flowers, To cheer the heart, so briefly stay, So spirit-pleasures from the bowers

Of love and peace soon haste away.

But summer birds and summer flowers
Return with each returning spring;
So oft return life's happy hours,
When spirit-joys the soul may sing.

But O, the blooming prairie !

Here are God's floral bowers; Of all that He hath made on earth, The loveliest are the flowers. This is the Almighty's garden, And the mountains, stars, and sea Are nought, compared in beauty With God's garden prairie free.

FABLE OF THE WOOD ROSE AND THE LAUREL.

IN these deep shades a floweret blows,
Whose leaves a thousand sweets disclose;
With modest air it hides its charms,
And every breeze its leaves alarms;
Turns on the ground its bashful eyes,
And oft unknown, neglected, dies.
This flower, as late I careless strayed,
I saw in all its charms arrayed.
Fast by the spot where low it grew,
A proud and flaunting Wood Rose blew.
With haughty air her head she raised,
And on the beauteous plant she gazed.
While struggling passion swelled her breast,
She thus her kindling rage expressed :—

"Thou worthless flower,

Go leave my bower,

And hide in humbler scenes thy head:
How dost thou dare,

Where roses are,

Thy scents to shed?

Go, leave my bower, and live unknown;
I'll rule the field of flowers alone."

"And dost thou think," the Laurel cried,
And raised its head with modest pride,
While on its little trembling tongue
A drop of dew incumbent hung, —