The butterfly is there abroad,
The bee is on the wing,
And on the hawthorn by the road
The linnets sit and sing.
Sweet wallflower, sweet wallflower!
Thou conjurest up to me
Full many a soft and sunny hour
Of boyhood's thoughtless glee,
When joy from out the daisies grew,
In woodland pastures green,
And summer skies were far more blue
Than since they e'er have been.
Now autumn's pensive voice is heard
Amid the yellow bowers,
The robin is the regal bird,
And thou the Queen of Flowers!
He sings on the laburnum trees,
Amid the twilight dim,
And Araby ne'er gave the breeze
Such sweets as thou to him.
Rich is the pink, the lily gay,
The rose is summer's guest; Bland are thy charms when these decay, Of flowers, first, last, and best! There may be gaudier on the bower,
And statelier on the tree,
But, wallflower, loved wallflower,
Thou art the flower for me!
AND she was passing from the woods away;
The broken flower of England might not stay
Amidst those alien shades; her eye was bright
E'n yet with something of a starry light,
But her form wasted, and her fair young cheek
Wore oft and patiently a fatal streak,
A rose whose root was death. The parting sigh
Of autumn through the forests had gone by,
And the rich maple o'er her wanderings lone
Its crimson leaves in many a shower had strown,
Flushing the air; and winter's blast had been
Amidst the pines; and now a softer green
Fringed their dark boughs; for spring again had come,
The sunny spring! but Edith to her home
Was journeying fast. Alas! we think it sad
To part with life when all the earth looks glad
In her young lovely things, when voices break
Into sweet sounds, and leaves and blossoms wake:
Is it not brighter, then, in that far clime
Where graves are not, nor blights of changeful time,
If here such glory dwell with passing blooms
Such golden sunshine rests around the tombs ?
So thought the dying one. 'Twas early day,
And sounds and odours with the breezes play,
Whispering of spring-time, through the cabin-door,
Unto her couch life's farewell sweetness bore;
Then with a look where all her hope awoke,
"My father!”—to the gray-hair'd chief she spoke-
"Know'st thou that I depart?"-"I know, I know,” He answer'd mournfully, "that thou must go
To thy belov'd, my daughter!"-" Sorrow not
For me, kind mother!" with meek smiles once more,
She murmur'd in low tones; "one happy lot
Awaits us, friends! upon the better shore;
For we have pray'd together in one trust,
And lifted our frail spirits from the dust,
To God who gave them. Lay me by mine own,
Under the cedar-shade: where he is gone,
Thither I go. There will my sisters be,
And the dead parents lisping at whose knee
My childhood's prayer was learn'd,-the Saviour's
Which now ye know,-and I shall meet you there,
Father, and gentle mother!-ye have bound
The bruised reed, and mercy shall be found
By Mercy's children."-From the matron's eye
Dropp'd tears, her sole and passionate reply;
But Edith felt them not; for now a sleep
Solemnly beautiful, a stillness deep,
Fell on her settled face. Then, sad and slow,
And mantling up his stately head in wo,
"Thou'rt passing hence," he sang, that warrior old,
In sounds like those by plaintive waters roll'd :
“Thou'rt passing from the lake's green side,
And the hunter's hearth away;
For the time of flowers, for the summer's pride,
Daughter! thou canst not stay.
Thou'rt journeying to thy spirit's home,
Where the skies are ever clear;
The corn-month's golden hours will come, But they shall not find thee here.
And we shall miss thy voice, my bird!
Under our whispering pine;
Music shall 'midst the leaves be heard,
But not a song like thine.
A breeze that roves o'er stream and hill, Telling of winter gone,
Hath such sweet falls-yet caught we still A farewell in its tone.
But thou, my bright one! thou shalt be
Where farewell sounds are o'er ;
Thou, in the eyes thou lov'st, shalt see
No fear of parting more.
The mossy grave thy tears have wet,
And the wind's wild moanings by,
Thou with thy kindred shall forget,
'Midst flowers-not such as die.
The shadow from thy brow shall melt
The sorrow from thy strain;
But where thine earthly smile hath dwelt,
Our hearts shall thirst in vain.
Dim will our cabin be, and lone,
When thou, its light, art fled;
Yet hath thy step the pathway shewn
Unto the happy dead.
And we will follow thee, our guide!
And join that shining band;
Thou'rt passing from the lake's green side
Go to the better land!"
The song hath ceased-the list'ners caught no breath, That lovely sleep hath melted into death.
FAREWELL TO THE YEAR.
J. G. LOCKHART.
HARK, friends, it strikes: the year's last hour:
A solemn sound to hear:
Come fill the cup, and let us pour
Our blessing on the parting year.
The years that were, the dim, the gray,
Receive this night, with choral hymn,
A sister shade as lost as they,
And soon to be as gray and dim.
Fill high she brought us both of weal and wo,
And nearer lies the land to which we go.
On, on, in one unwearied round
Old Time pursues his way:
Groves bud and blossom, and the ground
Expects in peace her yellow prey :
The oak's broad leaf, the rose's bloom,
Together fall, together lie;
And undistinguished in the tomb,
Howe'er they lived, are all that die.
Gold, beauty, knightly sword, and royal crown,
To the same sleep go shorn and withered down.
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