LETITIA E. MACLEAN.

Then the bright blue sky is joyful,
And the bright blue sky is clear,
And I can see, sweet mother,

To kiss away your tear.

But now the wind goes wailing

O'er the dark and trackless deep; And I know your grief, sweet mother, Though I only hear you weep.

My father's ship will come, mother,
In safety o'er the main;

When the grapes are dyed with purple
He will be back again.

The vines were but in blossom,

When he bade me watch them grow; And now the large leaves, mother, Conceal their crimson glow.

He'll bring us shells and sea-weed,
And birds of shining wing;
But what are these, dear mother!
It is himself he'll bring.

I'll watch with thee, sweet mother, But the stars fade from my sight; Come, come and sleep, dear mother,Oh, weep no more to-night.

CHURCHES.

How beautiful they stand,

Those ancient altars of our native land!
Amid the pasture fields and dark green woods,
Amid the mountain's cloudy solitudes;

By rivers broad that rush into the sea;

By little brooks that, with a leaping sound,
Like playful children, run by copse and lea!
Each in its little plot of holy ground,
How beautiful they stand,

Those old grey churches of our native land!

Our lives are all turmoil;

Our souls are in a weary strife and toil,

Grasping and straining-tasking nerve and brain,
Both day and night, for gain!

We have grown worldly-have made gold our god-
Have turned our hearts away from lowly things;
We seek not now the wild flower on the sod;

We seek not snowy-folded angel's wings
Amid the summer skies-

For visions come not to polluted eyes!

Ye blessed quiet fanes!

Still piety, still poetry remains,

And shall remain, whilst ever on the air
One chapel-bell calls high and low to prayer—
Whilst ever-green and sunny church-yards keep

The dust of our beloved, and tears are shed
From founts which in the human heart lie deep!

LETITIA E. MACLEAN.

Something in these aspiring days we need
To keep our spirits lowly,

To set within our hearts sweet thoughts and holy!

And 'tis for this they stand,

The grey old churches of our native land!
And even in the gold-corrupted mart,
In the great city's heart,

They stand; and chantry dim, and organ sound,
And stated services of prayer and praise,
Like to the righteous ten who were not found
For the polluted city, shall upraise

Meek faith and love sincere

Better in time of need than shield and spear!

LITTLE Ellie sits alone

'Mid the beeches of a meadow
By a stream-side on the grass,
And the trees are showering down
Doubles of their leaves in shadow,
On her shining hair and face.

She has thrown her bonnet by,
And her feet she has been dipping
In the shallow water's flow:
Now she holds them nakedly

In her hands, all sleek and dripping,
While she rocketh to and fro.

ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING.

Little Ellie sits alone,

And the smile she softly uses

Fills the silence like a speech

While she thinks what shall be done, And the sweetest pleasure chooses

For her future within reach.

Little Ellie in her smile
Chooses "I will have a lover,

Riding on a steed of steeds:
He shall love me without guile,
And to him I will discover

The swan's nest among the reeds.

"And the steed shall be red-roan, And the lover shall be noble,

With an eye that takes the breath: And the lute he plays upon Shall strike ladies into trouble,

As his sword strikes men to death.

"And the steed it shall be shod

All in silver, housed in azure,

And the mane shall swim the wind; And the hoofs along the sod Shall flash onward and keep measure, Till the shepherds look behind.

"But my lover will not prize
All the glory that he rides in,
When he gazes in my face:
He will say, 'O Love, thine eyes
Build the shrine my soul abides in,
And I kneel here for thy grace!'