essons from the Gorse.

Mrs. Browning.

"To win the secret of a weed's plain heart."

LOWELL.

MOUNTAIN Gorses, ever golden!

Cankered not the whole year long!
Do you teach us to be strong,

Howsoever pricked and holden
Like your thorny blooms, and so

Trodden on by rain and snow

p the hill-side of this life, as bleak as where ye grow?

Do

Mountain blossoms, shining blossoms!

ye teach us to be glad

When no Summer can be had

Blooming in our inward bosoms?

Ye, whom God preserveth still,

Set as lights upon a hill,

okens to the wintry earth, that Beauty liveth still ?

LESSONS FROM THE GORSE.

269

Mountain Gorses, do ye teach us

From that academic chair

Canopied with azure air,

That the first fruit Wisdom reaches

Hath the hue of childly cheek?

Ye, who live on mountain peak,

Yet live low along the ground, beside the grasses meek!

Mountain Gorses! since Linnæus

Knelt beside you on the sod,

For your beauty thanking God,

For your beauty, ye should see us

Bowing in prostration new,—

Whence arisen, if one or two

Drops be on our cheeks,-oh world! they are not tears, but

dew.

November.

YET one smile more, departing, distant sun

Bryant.

air,

One mellow smile through the soft vapory
Ere, o'er the frozen earth, the loud winds run,
Or snows are sifted o'er the meadows bare;
One smile on the brown hills and naked trees,
And the dark rocks whose Summer wreaths are cast,
And the blue Gentian flower, that, in the breeze,
Nods lonely, of her beauteous race the last.
Yet a few sunny rays, in which the bee

Shall murmur by the hedge that skirts the way,
The cricket chirp upon the russet lea,
And man delight to linger in thy ray.

Yet one rich smile, and we will try to bear

The piercing Winter frost, and winds, and darkened air.

The Death of the Flowers.

C. Bowles.

HOW happily, how happily the flowers die away!

Oh, could we but return to earth as easily as they! Just live a life of sunshine, of innocence and bloom, Then droop, without decrepitude or pain, into the tomb.

The gay and glorious creatures! they neither toil nor spin.
Yet, lo! what goodly raiment they're all apparell'd in!
No tears are on their beauty, but dewy gems more bright
Than even brow of Eastern Queen, endiadem'd with light.

The young rejoicing creatures! their pleasures never fall,
Nor lose in sweet contentment, because so free to all;
The dew, the shower, the sunshine, the balmy blessed air,
Spend nothing of their fresheness, though all may freely
share.

The happy, careless creatures! of Time they take no heed,
Nor weary at his creeping, nor tremble at his speed;
Nor sigh with sick impatience, or wish the light away,
And when 'tis gone, cry dolefully, would God that it were day!

Farewell to the Flowers.

Mrs. L. H. Sigourney.

Go to your peaceful rest,

Friends of a brighter hour,

Jewels on youthful Beauty's breast,
Lights of the hall and bower!

Well have ye done your part
Fair children of the sky,

We'll keep your memory in our heart
When low in dust ye lie.

Your gladness in our joy,

Your smile beside our way,

Your gentle service round the bed,

Of sickness and decay;

Your rainbow on the clouds,

Your sympathy in pain.

We'll keep the memory of your deeds

Until we meet again.