On the pleasant scene where I de- In the careless happy days of yore, Seemed it pitiful he should sit there. I have tottered here to look once It was summer, and we went to school Dapper country lads, and little maidens; Taught the motto of the "Dunce's stool," Its grave import still my fancy ladens "Here's a fool!" 66 more! "All the picture now to me how dear! E'en this gray old rock where I am seated Is a jewel worth my journey here; It was summer, and we went to All the picture now to me how dear! For the game; When the stranger seemed to mark Old stone school-house!-it is still One sweet spirit broke the silent In the cottage yonder, I was born. 66 spell. Angel," said he sadly, "I am oldEarthly hope no longer hath a morrow; Yet why I sit here thou shalt be told," Then his eye betrayed a pearl of sor "Those two gateway sycamores you see Then were planted just so far as under That long well-pole from the path to free, And the wagon to pass safely under; Ninety-three! Those two gateway sycamores you see. Taken wing! swing! Ere she hastened to the spirit-land- There's the gate on which I used to There my Mary blessed me with her hand. "I have come to see that grave once more, And the sacred place where we de lighted, next night And showed the names whom love of God had blessed, And, lo! Ben Adhem's name led all the rest! STANZAS FROM SONG OF THE FLOWERS. WE are the sweet flowers, Born of sunny showers, (Think, whene'er you see us what our beauty saith;) Utterance, mute and bright, All who see us love us Unto sorrow we give smiles- and unto graces, graces. Mark our ways, how noiseless Though the March winds pipe to make our passage clear; Not a whisper tells Where our small seed dwells Nor is known the moment green when our tips appear. We thread the earth in silence It came again, with a great wakening And leaf by leaf in silence show, till light, we laugh a-top, sweet flowers! What sweet thoughts she thinks Of violets and pinks, Trees themselves are ours: Peach and roughest nut were blossoms in the spring; The lusty bee knows well The news, and comes pell-mell, And a thousand flushing hues made And dances in the gloomy thicks with darksome antheming; Beneath the very burden Of planet-pressing ocean, We wash our smiling cheeks in peace -a thought for meek devotion. And all those Amazonian plains lone One to the fields, the other to the By the bee-birds haunted, lying as enchanted. hearth, Both have your sunshine; both, though small, are strong At your clear hearts; and both seem given to earth To sing in thoughtful ears this natural song, In doors and out, summer and winter, mirth. MAY AND THE POEts. THERE is May in books forever; In happy places they call shelves, All our own selves in the worn-out shape of others; But come rather, thou, good weather, Our used, and oh, be sure, not to be And find us in the fields together. ill-used brothers! O moon! in the night I have seen you sailing And shining so round and low; You were bright! ah, bright! but your light is failing,— |