'Twas there! That peerless Rose was there,

Where no frosts, nor mildews are.

Tenderest friends!-whose watchful care

Mark'd its infant bud unclose,

Ye fear'd the blight for it.

The winds, with moody fit,-
The wintry snows;—
Now, Fear hath fled away,

Hope hath no prayer to say,

For it blooms where Heaven's pure ray

Unchanging glows.

THOUGHT.

"By thy thoughts thou shalt be judged."

STAY, Winged thought! I fain would question thee;
Though thy bright pinion is less palpable

Than filmy gossamer, more swift in flight
Than light's transmitted ray.

Art thou a friend?

Thou wilt not answer me. Thou hast no voice
For mortal ear. Thy language is with God.

I fear thee. Thou'rt a subtle husbandman,

Sowing thy little seed, of good or ill,

In the moist, unsunn'd surface of the heart.
But what thou there in secresy dost plant
Stands with its ripe fruit at the judgment-day.
-What hast thou dared to leave within my breast?
Tell me thy ministry in that lock'd cell

Of which I keep the key, till Death shall come.

Knowest thou that I must give account for thee?

Disrobe thee of thy mystery, and show

What witness thou hast borne to the high Judge.
-Oh Man! so prodigal of words, in deeds

Oft wise and wary, lest thy brother worm
Should hang thereon his echo-taunt of shame,
How dar'st thou trifle with all-fearful thought?
-Beware of thoughts. They whisper to the heavens.
Though mute to thee, they prompt the diamond pen
Of the recording angel.

Make them friends!

Those dread seed-planters for Eternity,

Those sky-reporting heralds. Make them friends!

SCHOOL OF YOUNG LADIES.

How fair upon the admiring sight,

In Learning's sacred fane,

With cheek of bloom, and robe of white,
Glide on yon graceful train.
Blest creatures! to whose gentle eye

Earth's gilded gifts are new,

Ye know not that distrustful sigh

Which deems its vows untrue.

There is a bubble on your cup
By buoyant fancy nurs'd,

How high its sparkling foam leaps up!
Ye do not think 'twill burst:
And be it far from me to fling

On budding joys a blight,

Or darkly spread a raven's wing

To shade a path so bright.

There twines a wreath around your brow,

Blent with the sunny braid;

Love lends its flowers a radiant glow

Ye do not think 'twill fade:

And yet 'twere safer there to bind
That plant of changeless dye,
Whose root is in the lowly mind,
Whose blossom in the sky.

But who o'er beauty's form can hang,
Nor think how future years
May bring stern sorrow's speechless pang
Or, disappointment's tears,
Unceasing toil, unpitied care,

Cold treachery's serpent moan-
Ills that the tender heart must bear,
Unanswering and alone.

Yet, as the frail and fragrant flower,
Crushed by the sweeping blast,
Doth even in death an essence pour,
The sweetest, and the last,
So woman's deep, enduring love,

Which nothing can appal,

Her steadfast faith, that looks above
For rest, can conquer all.

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