And his kind voice, my early love's-nay, mother, do not

chide !

I felt delight, unknown so long, to see him by my side. The wild flower blooms-how beautiful! upon our mountain's brow,

But take it from its native soil-it fades as I do now.
I pine amidst this stranger land. Oh! let me see again
Our sunny skies, our fruitful vines, our cottage in the

glen,

And tell me not of rank and power-the wealth that may be mine;

Would you weave garlands of the spring around a ruined shrine?

Oh! what to me are eastern gems, or sparkling chains of gold?

They cannot warm to joy—to life—a bosom growing cold. I've tried to force this wayward heart to do my mother's

will;

But though it break, it will not change-to him 'tis faithful still.

Then take me home, and let me breathe my mountain air

once more;

Or see me die-your cherished child-upon a foreign

shore.

ANNA T.

BRIGHT THINGS OF SPRING.

THE glad spring winds! the glad spring winds! They blow so wild and free,

With a whirl and a bound, and a laughing sound
Of joyous melody!

My soul will leap when I hear them sweep
Through the bright blue sky away;

For I long to go where the spring winds blow
As merry and wild as they.

The mild spring flower! the mild spring flower!

It looks so lovingly up,

I fain would lay my heart for aye

In the warmth of its trembling cup; Love dost thou bring, sweet child of spring,

From the depth of thy moistened eye;

Love to the God who hath formed the sod

Where the clustering wild flowers lie.

Then there are the birds! the sweet spring birds!

You'd think ere the end of May,

With their gush of song, so clear and strong,
They would trill their lives away.

Oh! I'll blithely sing with the birds of spring,
For the wild flowers thankful be;

And my thoughts shall go where the bright winds blow, Through the boundless sky ever free.

ANNA S