I saw her thus the angels cherishing

Their long-belov'd, and welcoming her home,

And whispering her of pure joys yet to come,
And hopes eternal and unperishing.

I saw her smile upon them, and the band
Of fadeless flowers they laid upon her brow;
And heard her sigh, O happy, happy now,

Th' immortal airs my burning cheek have fann'd. And those I left on earth, and wept to leave

Their ministering angel I awhile shall be;

But soon their wearied hearts shall cease to

grieve,

And they will come to rapture and to me.

SONNET.

I HAIL thee, Solitude! for unto me

Thou art but memory of the hours most dear; Chosen from all life's strange variety,

To live again with calmer feelings here.

Calmer and sweeter, in that soften'd glow,

With which we view the flight of years gone by; And feel the joys we ne'er again can know, Yet in a constant heart can never die. Forms rise around me which affection owns,

Tho' long estranged by fate's untimely doom; And memory's hallow'd intercourse atones

Ι

For every tear I wept upon

their tomb.

And thou, O Solitude, to me hast given

High dreams, and aspirations after Heaven!

SONNET.

AND can this bright and heaven descended spark, -Portion of thine own Immortality,

In future ages, Father, cease to be?

The spirit's vital fire eclips'd and dark?

No, by the pure aspirings after Thee,

Which even sin-bound souls at moments feel,

By every high and glorious faculty,

Which thou hast stamp'd with thine Almighty

seal,

It shall not perish!—Thou hast breath'd the flame, And Thou canst purify. Tho' mortal sight

Thro' earth's involving shades behold no light,

The soul's vitality is still the same;

And those whom earth saw grovelling in her dust,

In heaven shall perfect virtue in thy trust.

GOOD MORN.

GOOD morn, good morn-see the sweet light

breaking

O'er hill and dale to greet thy waking!

The dark grey clouds are flitting away,

And the young sun sheds forth a twilight ray;
And a halo of bloom is in the skies,

Yet the night of slumber is on thine eyes.

The opening dew lies fresh on the flower,
And sweetly cool is the youthful hour;
And the birds are twittering their tender song,
The bright and weeping boughs among;
And all seems fresh and with rapture rife,
While wakening into conscious life.

O rouse thee!—rouse thee!—the precious time
Is fleeting fast; and merrily chime

C

The morning bells; and the beautiful view
Thy touch should arrest, is fading too!—
The glow of the cloud is darkening fast,
And the sunny mist is almost past;
And thy lyre is lying all unstrung,

And thy matin hymn is still unsung;

And thy lip is mute and thy knee unbending,

Nor is yet the sweet prayer to heaven ascending.
-What! slumbering still!-Arise! arise!—
For thy lovely dreams are fantasies,

And mock thy waking; but come with me,
And listen to life's reality.

And come and muse on that deeper sleep,

O'er which Hope will her silent vigils keep,

And sooth and shield with her guardian wing
The spirit's secret fluttering,

And lead it on to that brighter day,

Which knows no evening and no decay.