FROM A POEM ENTITLED “A DAY IN AUTUMN." ONE ramble through the woods with me, Thou dear companion of my days,These mighty woods! how quietly They sleep in Autumn's golden haze The gay leaves, twinkling in the breeze, Still to the forest branches cling; They lie like blossoms on the treesThe brightest blossoms of the spring. Flowers linger in each sheltered nook, And still the cheerful song of bird, And murmur of the bee and brook, Through all the quiet groves are heard. How balmily the south wind blows! ON FINDING A FOUNTAIN IN A SE- THREE hundred years are scarcely gone And sacked its helpless towns for spoil; Through forests wild and wastes uncouth- They said in some green valley, where They there who drank should never know How brightly leap mid glittering sands And feel through every shrunken vein Youth's brightest hopes, youth's wildest glee 'Tis vain, for still the life-blood plays With sluggish course through all my frame, The mirror of the pool betrays My wrinkled visage still the same. And the sad spirit questions still Must this warm frame, these limbs that yiclu To each light motion of the will, Lie with the dull clods of the field? Has nature no renewing power To drive the frost of age away? Has earth no fount, or herb, or flower, Which man may taste and live for aye? Alas! for that unchanging state Of youth and strength in vain we yearn, And only after death's dark gate Is reached and passed, can youth return. THE TRAVELLER'S RETURN. IT was the glorious summer-time, Amid a group of towering trees, I saw where, in my early years, Whose glossy leaves were swayed and turned The clover, with its heavy bloom Was tossing in the gale, To my delighted sight. The wild vine in the woody glen, Swung o'er the sounding brook; The clear-voiced wood-thrush sang all unseen Within his leafy nook: And as the evening sunlight fell, Where beechen forests lie; I watched the clouds on crimson wings, All these are what they were when first I only meet the marks of care, THE INDIAN SUMMER. THAT Soft autumnal time Is come, that sheds, upon the naked scene, Charms only known in this our northern clime-Bright seasons, far between. The woodland foliage now Is gather'd by the wild November blast; The mighty vines, that round The forest trunks their slender branches bind, Their crimson foliage shaken to the ground, Swing naked in the wind. Some living green remains By the clear brook that shines along the lawn; But the sear grass stands white o'er all the plains, And the bright flowers are gone. But these, these are thy charms--Mild airs and temper'd light upon the lea; And the year holds no time within its arms That doth resemble thee. The sunny noon is thine, Soft, golden, noiseless as the dead of night; The year's last, loveliest smile, Thou comest to fill with hope the human heart, And strengthen it to bear the storms a while, Till winter days depart. O'er the wide plains, that lie A desolate scene, the fires of autumn spread, Far in a shelter'd nook I've met, in these calm days, a smiling flower, A lonely aster, trembling by a brook, At the quiet noontides' hour: And something told my mind, That, should old age to childhood call me back, Some sunny days and flowers I still might find Along life's weary track. THE BLIND RESTORED TO SIGHT. "And I went and washed, and I received sight."JOHN ix. 11. WHEN the great Master spoke, And he saw the city's walls, And kings' and prophets' tomb, And mighty arches, and vaulted halls, And the temple's lofty dome. He look'd on the river's flood, And the flash of mountain rills, And the gentle wave of the palms that stood Upon Judea's hills. He saw on heights and plains Creatures of every race: But a mighty thrill ran through his veins And his virgin sight beheld The ruddy glow of even, And the thousand shining orbs that fill'd And woman's voice before Had cheer'd his gloomy night, But to see the angel form she wore Made deeper the delight. And his heart, at daylight's close, For the bright world where he trod, And when the yellow morning rose, Gave speechless thanks to Gon. SONNET. THERE is a magic in the moon's mild ray,What time she softly climbs the evening sky, And sitteth with the silent stars on high,That charms the pang of earth-born grief away I raise my eye to the blue depths above, And worship Him whose power, pervading space, Holds those bright orbs at peace in his embrace, Yet comprehends earth's lowliest things in love. Oft, when that silent moon was sailing high, I've left my youthful sports to gaze, and now, When time with graver lines has mark'd my Sweetly she shines upon my sober'd eye. [brow O, may the light of truth, my steps to guide, Shine on my eve of life-shine soft, and long abide SONNET. "TIS Autumn. and my steps have led me far That dream-like glory of the painted wood; The pride of men, the beauteous, great, and good |