EPITHALAMIU M. BY J. G. C. BRAINARD. I saw two clouds at morning, I thought that morning cloud was blest, I saw two summer currents Flow smoothly to their meeting, And join their course, with silent force, In peace each other greeting: Calm was their course through banks of green, While dippling eddies played between. Such be your gentle motion, Till life's last pulse shall beat; Like summer's beam, and summer's stream, Float on in joy, to meet A calmer sea, where storms shall cease— A purer sky, where all is peace. How dear to this heart are the scenes of my childhood, THE BUCKET. 57 The wide-spreading pond, and the mill which stood by it, And e'en the rude bucket which hung in the well! That moss-covered vessel I hail as a treasure; For often, at noon, when returned from the field, I found it the source of an exquisite pleasure, The purest and sweetest that nature can yield. How ardent I seized it, with hands that were glowing, And quick to the white pebbled bottom it fell; Then soon, with the emblem of truth overflowing, And dripping with coolness, it rose from the well; The old oaken bucket, the iron-bound bucket, The moss-covered bucket arose from the well. How sweet from the green mossy brim to receive it, As fancy reverts to my father's plantation, And sighs for the bucket which hangs in the well; The old oaken bucket, the iron-bound bucket, The moss-covered bucket, which hangs in his well. TO A WATERFOWL. BY W. C. BRYANT. 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, Thy figure floats along. Seekst thou the plashy brink Of weedy lake, or marge of river wide, 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 fanned, At that far height, the cold, thin atmosphere; And soon that toil shall end; Soon shalt thou find a summer home, and rest And scream among thy fellows; reeds shall bend Thou 'rt gone; the abyss of heaven Hath swallowed up thy form; yet on my heart Deeply hath sunk the lesson thou hast given, And shall not soon depart. 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. |