WHITHER, 'midst falling dew, While glow the heavens with the last steps of day, Far, through their rosy depths, dost thou pursue Thy solitary way? Vainly the fowler's eye Might mark thy distant flight to do thee wrong, As, darkly painted on the crimson sky, Thy figure floats along. TO A WATERFOWL. Seek'st thou the plashy brink Of weedy lake, or marge of river wide, Or where the rocky billows rise and sink There is a Power whose care Teaches thy way along that pathless coast The desert and illimitable air Lone wandering, but not lost. All day thy wings have fann'd, Though the dark night is near. Soon shalt thou find a summer home, and rest, Thou 'rt gone-the abyss of heaven Hath swallow'd up thy form; yet on my heart Deeply hath sunk the lesson thou hast given, He who, from zone to zone, Guides through the boundless sky thy certain flight, In the long way that I must tread alone, Will lead my steps aright. W. C. BRYANT. THE DAISY. TAR of the mead! sweet daughter of the day, Thy pearly crown above thy vest of green. The lark, with sparkling eye and rustling wing, Rejoins his widow'd mate in early spring, And as he prunes his plumes of russet hue, Oft have I watch'd thy closing buds at eve, More dearly loved thy pearly form to greet, When on his scarf the knight the daisy bound, And dames to tourneys shone with daisies crown'd, To hail the Daisy, flower of faithful love. DR. LEYDEN. |