You yet may spy the fawn at play,
The hare upon the green;
But the sweet face of Lucy Gray
Will never more be seen.
THE ROSE OF MAY.
AH! there's the lily, marble pale,
The bonnie broom, the cistus frail;
The rich sweet pea, the iris blue,
The larkspur with its peacock hue;
All these are fair, yet hold I will
That the Rose of May is fairer still.
"Tis grand 'neath palace walls to grow,
To blaze where lords and ladies go;
To hang o'er marble founts, and shine
In modern gardens, trim and fine;
But the Rose of May is only seen
Where the great of other days have been.
The house is mouldering stone by stone,
The garden-walks are overgrown ;
The flowers are low, the weeds are high,
The fountain-stream is choked and dry,
The dial-stone with moss is green,
Where'er the Rose of May is seen.
The Rose of May its pride display'd
Along the old stone balustrade;
And ancient ladies, quaintly dight,
In its pink blossoms took delight;
And on the steps would make a stand
To scent its fragrance-fan in hand.
Long have been dead those ladies gay;
Their very heirs have passed away;
And their old portraits, prim and tall,
Are mould'ring in the mould'ring hall;
The terrace and the balustrade
Lie broken, weedy and decayed.
But blithe and tall the Rose of May
Shoots upward through the ruin grey;
With scented flower, and leaf pale green,
Such rose as it hath ever been,
Left, like a noble deed, to grace
The memory of an ancient race.
MORNING INVITATION TO A CHILD.
THE house is a prison, the schoolroom's a cell;
Leave study and books for the upland and dell;
Lay aside the dull poring, quit home and quit care;
Sally forth sally forth! let us breathe the fresh
air!
The sky dons its holiday mantle of blue;
The sun sips his morning refreshment of dew,
Shakes, joyously laughing, his tresses of light,
And here and there turns his eye piercing and
bright;
Then jocund mounts up on his glorious car,
With smiles to the morn-for he means to go far
While the clouds that had newly paid court at his
levee,1
Spread sails to the breeze, and glide off in a bevy.2
Lofty trees, tufted hedge-rows, and sparkling between,
Dewy meadows enamelled 3 in gold and in green,
With king-cups and daisies, that all the year please,
Sprays, petals, and leaflets that nod in the breeze,
With carpets, and garlands, and wreaths, deck the
way,
And tempt the blithe spirit still onward to stray,
Itself its own home;-far away! far away!
The butterflies flutter in pairs round the bower,
The humble-bee sings in each bell of each flower;
The bee hums o'er heather5 and breeze-wooing
hill,6
And forgets in the sunshine his toil and his skill;
The birds carol gladly!-the lark mounts on high !
The swallows on wing make their tune to the eye,
And, as birds of good omen, that summer loves well,
Ever wheeling, weave ever some magical spell.
The hunt is abroad:-hark! the horn sounds its
note,
And seems to invite us to regions remote.
The horse in the meadows is stirred by the sound, And, neighing impatient, o'erleaps the low mound;
1 Levee-a crowd of inferiors waiting on or visiting some great personage.
2 Bevy-properly a flock of birds—a company.
3 Enamelled-inlaid with various colours.
Petals-flower leaves.
5 Heather-heath.
• Breeze-wooing hill-a hill which, as it were, courts or invites the wind to stay near it—high and exposed.
Then proud in his speed o'er the champaign he bounds
To the whoop of the huntsmen, and tongue of the hounds;
Then stay not within, for on such a blest day
We can never quit home, while with Nature we
stray, far away! far away !
J. H. Green.
SOLILOQUY OF A WATER-WAGTAIL.
"HEAR your sovereign's proclamation,
All good subjects, young and old!
I'm the Lord of the Creation,
I-a water-wagtail bold!
All around, and all you see,
All the world was made for ME!
"Yonder sun, so proudly shining,
Rises when I leave my nest;
And, behind the hills declining,
Sets-when I retire to rest.
Morn and evening, thus you see,
Day and night, were made for ME!
"Vernal gales to love invite me;
Summer sheds for me her beams;
Autumn's genial scenes delight me;
Winter paves with ice my streams;
All the year is mine you see;
Seasons change like moons for ME;
1 Champaign-open, flat country.
"On the heads of giant mountains,
Or beneath the shady trees;
By the banks of warbling fountains
I enjoy myself at ease:
Hills and valleys, thus you see,
Groves and rivers, made for ME!
"Boundless are my vast dominions;
I can hop, or swim, or fly;
When I please, my towering pinions.
Trace my empire through the sky :
Air and elements, you see,
Heaven and earth, were made for ME!
"Birds and insects, beasts and fishes,
All their humble distance keep;
Man, subservient to my wishes,
Sows the harvest which I
Mighty man himself, you see,
All that breathe, were made for ME?
""Twas for my accommodation
Nature rose when I was born;
Should I die-the whole creation
Back to nothing would return:
Sun, moon, stars, the world, you see,
Sprung-exist-will fall with ME."
Here the pretty prattler, ending,
Spread his wings to soar away;
But a cruel hawk, descending,
Pounced him up-a helpless prey.
Couldst thou not, poor wagtail, see
That the hawk was made for THEE?
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