No, thou art delighting
In thy summer home;
Where the flowers inviting
Tempt the bee to roam;
Where the cowslip, bending
With its golden bells,
Of each glad hour's ending
With a sweet chime tells.

All wild creatures love him
When he is alone;
Every bird above him

Sings its softest tone.
Thankful to high heaven,
Humble in thy joy,
Much to thee is given,
Lowly shepherd boy.

THE

NIGHT AT SEA.

HE lovely purple of the moon's bestowing
Has vanished from the waters, where it flung

A royal colour, such as gems are throwing
Tyrian or regal garniture among.

'Tis night, and overhead the sky is gleaming,
Thro' the slight vapour trembles each dim star;

I turn away-my heart is sadly dreaming
Of scenes they do not light, of scenes afar.
My friends, my absent friends!

Do you think of me, as I think of you?

By each dark wave around the vessel sweeping,
Farther am I from old dear friends removed;
Till the lone vigil that I now am keeping,

I did not know how much you were beloved.

How many acts of kindness little heeded,

Kind looks, kind words, rise half reproachful now! Hurried and anxious, my vexed life has speeded, And memory wears a soft accusing brow. My friends, my absent friends!

Do you think of me, as I think of you? The very stars are strangers, as I catch them Athwart the shadowy sails that swell above; I cannot hope that other eyes will watch them At the same moment with a mutual love. They shine not there, as here they now are shining; The very hours are changed. -Ah, do ye sleep? O'er each home pillow midnight is decliningMay some kind dream at least my image keep ! My friends, my absent friends!

Do you think of me, as I think of you?

Yesterday has a charm, To-day could never
Fling o'er the mind, which knows not till it parts
How it turns back with tenderest endeavour

To fix the past within the heart of hearts.
Absence is full of memory, it teaches

The value of all old familiar things;
The strengthener of affection, while it reaches
O'er the dark parting, with an angel's wings.
My friends, my absent friends!

Do you think of me, as I think of you?
The world, with one vast element omitted-
Man's own especial element, the earth;
Yet, o'er the waters is his rule transmitted

By that great knowledge whence has power its birth.
How oft on some strange loveliness while gazing,
Have I wished for you-beautiful as new,
The purple waves like some wild army raising
Their snowy banners as the ship cuts through.
My friends, my absent friends!

Do you think of me, as I think of you?
Bearing upon its wings the hues of morning,
Up springs the flying fish like life's false joy,

Which of the sunshine asks that frail adorning
Whose very light is fated to destroy.

Ah, so doth genius on its rainbow pinion

Spring from the depths of an unkindly world;
So spring sweet fancies from the heart's dominion—
Too soon in death the scorched-up wing is furled.
My friends, my absent friends!

Whate'er I see is linked with thoughts of you.

No life is in the air, but in the waters

Are creatures, huge, and terrible, and strong;
The sword-fish and the shark pursue their slaughters,
War universal reigns these depths along.

Like some new island on the ocean springing,
Floats on the surface some gigantic whale,
From its vast head a silver fountain flinging,
Bright as the fountain in a fairy tale.
My friends, my absent friends!

I read such fairy legends while with you.

Light is amid the gloomy canvas spreading,
The moon is whitening the dusky sails,

From the thick bank of clouds she masters, shedding
The softest influence that o'er night prevails.
Pale is she like a young queen pale with splendour,
Haunted with passionate thoughts too fond, too deep;
The very glory that she wears is tender,

The very eyes that watch her beauty fain would weep.
My friends, my absent friends!

Do you think of me, as I think of you?

Sunshine is ever cheerful, when the morning
Wakens the world with cloud-dispelling eyes;
The spirits mount to glad endeavour, scorning
What toil upon a path so sunny lies.

Sunshine and hope are comrades, and their weather
Calls into life an energy like Spring's;
But memory and moonlight go together,
Reflected in the light that either brings.
My friends, my absent friends!

Do you think of me, then? I think of you.

The busy deck is hushed, no sounds are waking
But the watch pacing silently and slow;
The waves against the sides incessant breaking,
And rope and canvas swaying to and fro.
The topmost sail, it seems like some dim pinnacle
Cresting a shadowy tower amid the air;

While red and fitful gleams come from the binnacle,
The only light on board to guide us-where?
My friends, my absent friends!

Far from my native land, and far from you.

On one side of the ship, the moonbeam's shimmer
In luminous vibrations sweeps the sea,

But where the shadow falls, a strange, pale glimmer
Seems, glow-worm like, amid the waves to be.
All that the spirit keeps of thought and feeling,
Takes visionary hues from such an hour;
But while some phantasy is o'er me stealing,
I start remembrance has a keener power:
My friends, my absent friends!

From the fair dream I start to think of you.

A dusk line in the moonlight-I discover
What all day long vainly I sought to catch;
Or is it but the varying clouds that hover

Thick in the air, to mock the eyes that watch?
No; well the sailor knows each speck, appearing,
Upon the tossing waves, the far-off strand;
To that dark line our eager ship is steering.
Her voyage done-to-morrow we shall land.

[PRAED was educated at Eton, and was co-contributor with Macaulay and Moultrie to a magazine. But for his early death there can be no question that he would have signalized himself as a politician and debater, as it is he has only left his mark on poetic literature. His poetry chiefly appeared in magazines, but has lately been collected and published in two volumes. In his sparkling play upon words, Praed often reminds one of Hood.]

SOME years ago, ere Time and Taste

Had turned our parish topsy-turvy,
When Darnel Park was Darnel Waste,
And roads as little known as scurvy,
The man who lost his way between
Saint Mary's Hill and Sandy Thicket
Was always shown across the green,
And guided to the Parson's wicket