The Harmony of Nature.

There is a soothing harmony
Among the whispering trees,
There is a joyous melody,

Which floats upon the breeze.

It comes to us from every spray,
Where the jocund songsters sing;
We feel it where the insects play,

And midst the flowers of spring.

The gentle cooing of the dove
Has power to lull to rest,

The yearnings after human love,
Which fill the human breast.

The soaring lark's triumphant song
Raises our hearts on high;

And while we gaze on him, we long

For heavenly melody.

Can we behold earth's mantle green,
And the blue sky above,

And not confess, midst every scene,

The Lord our God is love!

ΑΝΟΝ.

The Heart's Guests.

When age has cast its shadows
O'er life's declining way,
When evening twilight gathers
Round our retiring day, -
Then shall we sit and ponder
On the dim and shadowy past,
In the heart's silent chamber,

The guests will gather fast.

Guests that in youth we cherished,
Shall come to us once more,
And we shall hold communion
As in the days before.

They may be dark and sombre,

They may be bright and fair,

But the heart will have its chamber, The guests will gather there.

How shall it be, my sisters?

Who shall be our hearts' guests?

How shall it be, my brothers,
When life's shadow on us rests?

Shall we not 'mid the silence
Hear voices sweet and low,
Speak the old familiar language,
The words of long ago?

Shall we not see dear faces

Sweet smiling as of old,

Till the mists of that lone chamber
Are sunset clouds of gold,
When age has cast its shadows
O'er life's declining way,

And evening twilight gathers
Round our retiring day?

MRS. ORNE.

On a Tear.

O! that the chemist's magic art

Could crystallize this sacred treasure!
Long should it glitter near my heart,
A secret source of pensive pleasure.

The little brilliant, ere it fell,

Its lustre caught from Chloe's eye; Then, trembling, left its coral cell, The spring of Sensibility!

Sweet drop of pure and pearly light!
In thee the rays of virtue shine,
More calmly clear, more mildly bright,

Than any gem that gilds the mine.

Benign restorer of the soul!

Who ever fliest to bring relief, When first we feel the rude control Of love or pity, joy or grief.

The sage's and the poet's theme,
In every clime, in every age;

Thou charm'st in fancy's idle dream
In reason's philosophic page.

That very law which moulds a tear,
And bids it trickle from its source,
That law preserves the earth a sphere,
And guides the planets in their course.

ROGERS.

The Moon.

The moon is sailing o'er the sky,
But lonely all, as if she pined
For somewhat of companionship,

And felt it were in vain she shined.

Earth is her mirror, and the stars
Are as the court around her throne;

She is a beauty and a queen,

But what is this? she is alone!

Is there not one. - not one, -
-to share
Thy glorious royalty on high?

I cannot choose but pity thee,

Thou lonely orphan of the sky.

I'd rather be the meanest flower

That grows, my mother earth, on thee, So there were others of my kin,

To blossom, bloom, droop, die with me.

Earth, thou hast sorrow, grief, and death;
But with these better could I bear,
Than reach and rule yon radiant sphere,
And be a solitary there.

LANDON.