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Under the walls

Where swells and falls The Bay's deep breast at intervals

At peace I lie,

Blown softly by,
A cloud upon this liquid sky.

The day so mild,

Is Heaven's own child, With earth and ocean reconciled ;

The airs I feel

Around me steal Are murmuring to the murmuring keel.

Over the rail

My hand I trail Within the shadow of the sail,

A joy intense,

The cooling sense
Glides down my drowsy indolence.

With dreamful eyes

My spirit lies
Where summer sings and never dies,

O'erveiled with vines,

She glows and shines Among her future oil and wines.

Her children, hid

The cliffs amid, Are gambolling with the gambolling kid;

Or down the walls,

With tipsy calls,
Laugh on the rocks like waterfalls.

The fisher's child,

With tresses wild, Unto the smooth, bright sand beguiled,

With glowing lips

Sings as she skips, Or gazes at the far-off ships,

Yon deep bark goes

Where traffic blows,
From lands of sun to lands of snows;

This happier one,

Its course is run
From lands of snow to lands of sun.

O happy ship,

To rise and dip,
With the blue crystal at your lip!

O happy crew,

My heart with you
Sails, and sails, and sings anew!

No more, no more

The worldly shore
Upbraids me with its loud uproar!

With dreamful eyes

My spirit lies
Under the walls of Paradise !

THE GHOST.
'Tis about twenty years since Abel Law,
A short, round-favored, merry
Old soldier of the Revolutionary
War,
Was wedded to
A most abominable shrew.
The temper, sir, of Shakspeare's Catharine
Could no more be compared with hers,
Than mine
With Lucifer's.

Her eyes were like a weasel's; she had a harsh Face, like a cranberry marsh, All spread With spots of white and red;

Hair of the color of a wisp of straw,
And a disposition like a cross-cut saw.
The appellation of this lovely dame
Was Nancy; don't forget the name.

Her brother David was a tall,
Good-looking chap, and that was all :
One of your great big nothings, as we say
Here in Rhode Island, picking up old jokes
And cracking them on other folks.
Well, David undertook one night to play
The Ghost, and frighten Abel, who,
He knew,
Would be returning from a journey through
A grove of forest wood
That stood
Below
The house some distance,-half a mile, or so.

With a long taper
Cap of white paper,
Just made to cover
A wig, nearly as large over
As a corn-basket, and a sheet
With both ends made to meet
Across his breast,
(The way in which ghosts are always dressed)
He took
His station near
A huge oak-tree,
Whence he could overlook
The road and see
Whatever might appear.

It happened that about an hour before, friend Abel Had left the table Of an inn, where he had made a halt, With horse and wagon, To taste a flagon Of malt

Liquor, and so forth, which, being done,
He went on,
Caring no more for twenty ghosts,
Than if they were so many posts.

David was nearly tired of waiting;
His patience was abating:
At length, he heard the careless tones
Of his kinsman's voice,
And then the noise
Of wagon-wheels among the stones.
Abel was quite elated, and was roaring
With all his might, and pouring
Out, in great confusion,
Scraps of old songs made in “the Revolution."

His head was full of Bunker Hill and Trenton;
And jovially he went on,
Scaring the whip-po-wills among the trees
With rhymes like these :-[Sings.]

“ See the Yankees
Leave the hill,

With baggernetts declining,
With looped-down hats
And rusty guns,

And leather aprons shining.
“ See the Yankees—Whoa! Why, what is that?"
Said Abel, staring like a cat,
As, slowly, on the fearful figure strode
Into the middle of the road.

“My conscience! what a suit of clothes! Some crazy fellow, I suppose. Hallo! friend, what's your name! by the powers of gin, That's a strange dress to travel in." “Be silent, Abel ; for I now have come To read your doom; Then hearken, while your fate I now declare. I am a spirit”-“I suppose you are;

But you'll not hurt me, and I'll tell you why :
Here is a fact which you cannot deny ;-
All spirits must be either good
Or bad, -that's understood,
And be you good or evil, I am sure
That I'm secure.
If a good spirit, I am safe. If evil, --
And I don't know but you may be the Devil,
If that's the case, you'll recollect, I fancy,
That I am married to your sister Nancy !”

THE SMACK IN SCHOOL.
A district school, not far away,
Mid Berkshire hills, one winter's day,
Was humming with its wonted noise
Of three-score mingled girls and boys;
Some few upon their tasks intent,
But more on furtive mischief bent.
The while the master's downward look
Was fastened on a copy-book:
When suddenly, behind his back,
Rose sharp and clear a rousing smack!
As 'twere a battery of bliss
Let off in one tremendous kiss!
“What's that?" the startled master cries;
" That, thir," a little imp replies,
“Wath William Willith, if you pleathe-
I thaw him kith Thuthanna Peathe!"
With frown to make a statue thrill,
The master thundered, “ Hither, Will!”
Like wretch o'ertaken in his track,
With stolen chattels on his back,
Will hung his head in fear and shame,
And to the awful presence came
A great, green, bashful simpleton,
The butt of all good-patured fun.
With smile suppressed, and birch upraised,
The threatener faltered "I'm amazed

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