In which, as in a mirror beaming,
Their characters and tempers show ;-
So lovely each, yet different seeming,
"I cannot choose between the two!"

MARY's a laughing, sprightly elf,
With spirits buoyant, wild and airy;
In form, a perfect mountain sylph;
In motion, graceful as a fairy:
While ANNA, heavenly, loved and loving,
So much the angel brings to view,
That, by my faith, though both approving,
"I cannot choose between the two!"

MARY as any rose is fair,

While ANNA is a rich brunette;

MARY has sunny, golden hair,

While ANNA's is a glossy jet;

And I so much am charmed with both-
The raven hair, the golden hue ;-
The blonde, and the brunette,-in sooth,
"I cannot choose between the two!"

MARY'S fair face is like her form

Its beauty dancing, sunny, bright; While ANNA's, like her soul, is warm With tender, soft, angelic light!

Then ANNA's melting eyes are black,

While MARY's laughing ones are blue; And thus, so equal their attack,

66 I cannot choose between the two!"

Did either of them I not know,
The other I would gladly take;
Would either of them let me go,
Her for the other I'd forsake:

To give up either I'm so loth,

In truth I know not what to do;

Faith! I'd turn Turk, to have them both,

Nor need thus "choose between the two!"

THE QUAKERESS.

OH! never talk again to me

Of dashing belles and high-born misses, Till it has been your lot to see

A meeting full of Quakeresses:

Your city miss may gayer dress,

Your dashing belle may be more striking, But the neat, modest Quakeress,

Is far more lovely, to my liking.

Oh! was it e'er your lot to know
A sweet and modest Quaker lass,
With sunny hair, and neck of snow,
And bosom-but we'll let that pass:
With eyes, before whose melting glance
The sturdiest rebel must surrender;
Eyes that might fairly make you dance,

So sparkling are they, yet so tender!

Her form of Nature's finest mould,

Untramelled by the hand of Art; Features, in which you may behold The rich out-gushings of a heart Filled with the deep intensity

Of young Love's purest, tenderest passion ; With manners frankly kind, and free

From the cold worldliness of fashion!

And then no cold coquette is she,

Feigning love's show without its feeling; But rather strives, all modestly,

To practice woman's art-concealing:
But yet when he—the favoured youth-
Shall ask if she his lot will bless,

So dearly does she love the truth,
She answers, ever frankly, "Yes!"

Let other bards attune their lays

To reigning belles and toasted beauties,

But be it mine to sing the praise

Of Quaker girls and homely duties: Let high-born dames, in jewels flashing, By lord and fopling worshipped be; Let others choose their beauties dashing, But the sweet QUAKERESS for me!

OUR WESTERN GIRLS.

THE girls we love! The girls we love!
Oh! where is he who loves them not?
The girls we love!—all girls above,

Our sweetest joy, our fondest thought!
Let poets sing of Glory's charms,

And paint the joy that warriors prove
When victory has crowned their arms-
My song is of the girls we love:

The girls we love! The girls we love!
Fill up, and drink the sparkling toast;
The girls we love!-all girls above,

Our dearest pride, our fairest boast!

The girls we love! The girls we love!
What others with them may compare;

The girls we love!—all girls above,

No girls on earth are half so fair!