AN axe rang sharply 'mid those forest shades
Which from creation toward the skies had tower'd
In unshorn beauty.—There, with vigorous arm
Wrought a bold Emigrant, and by his side
His little son, with question and response,
Beguil'd the toil.
"Boy, thou hast never seen
Such glorious trees. Hark, when their giant trunks Fall, how the firm earth groans. Rememberest thou The mighty river, on whose breast we sail'd,
So many days, on toward the setting sun?
Our own Connecticut, compar'd to that,
Was but a creeping stream."
That by our door went singing, where I launch'd
My tiny boat, with my young playmates round
When school was o'er, is dearer far to me,
Than all these bold, broad waters. To my eye
They are as strangers. And those little trees
My mother nurtur'd in the garden bound,
Of our first home, from whence the fragrant peach
Hung in its ripening gold, were fairer, sure,
Than this dark forest, shutting out the day."
"What, ho!-my little girl," and with light step
A fairy creature hasted toward her sire,
And, setting down the basket that contain'd
His noon's repast, look'd upward to his face
With sweet confiding smile.
That bright-wing'd paroquet, and hear the song
Of yon gay red-bird, echoing through the trees
Making rich music. Didst thou ever hear,
In far New England, such a mellow tone?"
"I had a robin that did take the crumbs
Each night and morning, and his chirping voice
Did make me joyful, as I went to tend
My snow-drops. I was always laughing then
In that first home. I should be happier now
Methinks, if I could find among these dells
The same fresh violets."
Slow night drew on,
And round the rude hut of the Emigrant
The wrathful spirit of the rising storm
Spake bitter things. His weary children slept,
And he, with head declin'd, sat listening long
To the swoln waters of the Illinois,
Dashing against their shores.
"Wife! did I see thee brush away a tear?
'Twas even so. Thy heart was with the halls
Of thy nativity. Their sparkling lights,
Carpets, and sofas, and admiring guests,
Befit thee better than these rugged walls
Of shapeless logs, and this lone, hermit home."
"No-no. All was so still around, methought
Upon mine ear that echoed hymn did steal,
Which 'mid the church, where erst we paid our vows,
So tuneful peal'd. But tenderly thy voice
Lighting her brow, the fond caress that sooth'd
Her waking infant, reassur'd his soul
That, wheresoe'er our best affections dwell,
And strike a healthful root, is happiness.
Content, and placid, to his rest he sank;
But dreams, those wild magicians, that do play
Such pranks when reason slumbers, tireless wrought Their will with him.
Up rose the thronging mart
Of his own native city-roof and spire,
All glittering bright, in fancy's frost-work ray.
The steed his boyhood nurtur'd, proudly neigh'd,
The favorite dog came frisking round his feet,
With shrill and joyous bark-familiar doors
Flew open-greeting hands with his were link'd
In friendship's grasp he heard the keen debate From congregated haunts, where mind with mind Doth blend and brighten-and till morning rov'd 'Mid the lov'd scenery of his native land.
ON THE ADMISSION OF MICHIGAN
INTO THE UNION.
COME in, little sister, so healthful and fair,
Come take in our father's best parlor a share,
You've been kept long enough at the nurse's, I trow,
Where the angry lakes roar and the northern winds blow;
Come in, we've a pretty large household, 'tis true,
But the twenty-five children can make room for you.
A present, I see, for our sire you have brought,
His dessert to embellish, how kind was the thought;
A treat of ripe berries, both crimson and blue,
And wild flowers to stick in his button-hole too,
The rose from your prairie, the nuts from your tree,
What a good little sister-come hither to me.
You've a dowry besides very cunningly stor❜d,
To fill a nice cupboard, or spread a broad board,
Detroit, Ypsilanti-Ann Arbour and more—
For the youngest, methinks, quite a plentiful store,
You're a prog, I perceive-it is true to the letter,
And your sharp Yankee sisters will like you the better.
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