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Sweet warblers of the sunny hours, forever on the wing,
I love them as I love the flowers, the sunlight, and the Spring.
They come like pleasant memories in Summer's joyous time,
And sing their gushing melodies as I would sing a rhyme.
In the green and quiet places, where the golden sunlight falls,
We sit with smiling faces to list their silver calls.
And when their holy anthems come pealing through the air,
Our hearts leap forth to meet them with a blessing and a prayer.

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Like shadowy spirits seen at eve, among the tombs they glide, Where sweet pale forms, for which we grieve, lie sleeping side by

side. They break with song the solemn hush where peace reclines her

head, And link their lays with mournful thoughts that cluster round the



Another poetess, Mrs. Nicholls, of Cincinnati, thus beautifully moralizes on Indian Summer :

It is the Indian Summer-time, the days of mist, and haze, and

glory, And on the leaves, in hues sublime, the Autunın paints poor Sum

mer's story: “ She died in beauty,” sing the hours," and left on earth a glorious

shadow ;" “ She died in beauty, like her flowers,” is painted on each wood and

meadow; She perished like bright human hopes, that blaze awhile upon life's

altar; And o'er her green and sunny slopes the plaintive winds her dirges


It is the Indian Summer-time! the crimson leaves like coals are

gleaming, The brightest tints of every clime are o'er our Western forests

streaming ; How bright the hours ! yet o'er their close the moments sigh in

mournful duty, And redder light around them glows, like hectic on the cheek of


MADAME Botta's fine lines, On a Library, will form a fitting peroration to our Fourth Evening with the Minstrels :

Speak low-tread softly through these halls,-here Genius lives

enshrined ! Here reign, in silent majesty, the monarchs of the mind! A mighty spirit-host they come from every age and clime; Above the buried wrecks of years, they breast the tide of Time, And in their presence-chamber here they hold their regal state, And round them throng a noble train,—the gifted and the great. O, child of earth! when round thy path the storms of life arise, And when thy brothers pass thee by with stern, unloving eyes, Here shall the poets chant for thee their sweetest, holiest lays, And prophets wait to guide thy steps in wisdom's pleasant ways. Come, with these God-anointed kings be thou companion here, And in the mighty realm of mind thou shalt go forth a peer.



Poilok, Morris,

Rogers, Boies, Campbell, Osgood,

Hood, Maclean, Eastman, Elliott, Blanchard, Muir,

Opencer, Wordsworth, Shelley, Keats, Whittier, Keble,

Burbidge, Eliza Cook, Milman, Swain, Mrs. Norton, Hervey, Tuckerman,

Bowles, Praed, Linen, Motherwell, Mrs. Browning, Barbauld,

Lover, Peabody, Sterling, Jones, Wilson,

Mackay, Vedder, Cooke, Willis,

Clarke, Smith



LEASANT were many

scenes, but most to me The solitude of vast cxtent, untouched By hand of art, where Nature sowed herself, And reaped her crops ; whose garments were the clouds ; Whose minstrels, brooks; whose lamps, the moon and stars ; Whose organ-choir, the voice of many waters;

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