THE CHANTING CHERUBS - A GROUP BY GREENOUGH

That with the stream they seemed to flow;

They told me that his heart was broke.

moon?

Or from a shining star?

Ye sure are sent, a blessed boon,

From kinder worlds afar;

For, while I look, my heart is all delight: Earth has no creatures half so pure and bright.

From moon nor star we hither flew;
The moon doth wane away,
The stars they pale at morning dew;
We're children of the day;

Nor change, nor night, was ever ours to bear;

Eternal light, and love, and joy, we share.

Then, sons of light, from Heaven above
Some blessed news ye bring.
Come ye to chant eternal love

And tell how angels sing,

And in your breathing, conscious forms to show

How purer forms above live, breathe, and glow?

Our parent is a human mind;

His winged thoughts are we; To sun nor stars are we confined:

We pierce the deepest sea.

Moved by a brother's call, our Father

bado

Us light on earth, and here our flight is stayed.

THE MOSS SUPPLICATETH FOR THE POET

THOUGH I am humble, slight me not, But love me for the Poet's sake; Forget me not till he 's forgot,

For care or slight with him I take.

For oft he passed the blossoms by And turned to me with kindly look; Left flaunting flowers and open sky,

And wooed me by the shady brook. And like the brook his voice was low:

So soft, so sad the words he spoke,

And seek the still and twilight wood, His spirit, weary of the sun,

In humblest things found chiefest good;

That I was of a lowly frame,

And far more constant than the flower, Which, vain with many a boastful name, But fluttered out its idle hour;

THE birds their love-notes warble
Among the blossomed trees;

The flowers are sighing forth their sweets
To wooing honey-bees;

The glad brook o'er a pebbly floor

Goes dancing on its way,

But not a thing is so like spring
As happy Alice Ray.

An only child was Alice,

And, like the blest above,

The gentle maid had ever breathed
An atmosphere of love;

Her father's smile like sunshine came,

Like dew her mother's kiss;

Their love and goodness made her home,

Like heaven, the place of bliss.

Beneath such tender training,

The joyous child had sprung,

But then her eyes were love-lit stars,
Her teeth as pure as pearl.

And when in merry laughter

Her sweet, clear voice was heard, It welled from out her happy heart

Like carol of a bird;

And all who heard were moved to

smiles,

As at some mirthful lay,

And to the stranger's look replied,

""T is that dear Alice Ray."

And so she came, like sunbeams
That bring the April green;

As type of nature's royalty,

They called her "Woodburn's queen ! " A sweet, heart-lifting cheerfulness, Like spring-time of the year, Seemed ever on her steps to wait, — No wonder she was dear.

And gladness round her flung;

And all who met her blessed her,
And turned again to pray

That grief and care might ever spare
The happy Alico Ray.

The gift that made her charming
Was not from Venus caught;

Nor was it, Pallas-like, derived
From majesty of thought;

She thought of grief and pain As giants in the olden time,

That ne'er would come again; The seasons all had charms for her, She welcomed each with joy,The charm that in her spirit lived No changes could destroy.

Her heart was like a fountain,
The waters always sweet, -

Her hair without a curl

The kitten at her feet,

The ruffling bird of Juno, and
The wren in the old wall,
Each knew her loving carefulness,
And came at her soft call.

Her love made all things lovely,

For in the heart must live

The feeling that imparts the charm,.We gain by what we give.

THE WATCHER

THE night was dark and fearful,
The blast swept wailing by;
A watcher, pale and tearful,
Looked forth with anxious eye:
How wistfully she gazes

No gleam of morn is there!
And then her heart upraises
Its agony of prayer.

Within that dwelling lonely,

Where want and darkness reign,

Her precious child, her only,

Lay moaning in his pain; And death alone can free himShe feels that this must be: "But oh! for morn to see him

Smile once again on me!"

A hundred lights are glancing
In yonder mansion fair,
And merry feet are dancing —

They heed not morning there:
Oh, young and lovely creatures,
One lamp, from out your store,
Would give that poor boy's features
To her fond gaze once more!

The morning sun is shining-
She heedeth not its ray;
Beside her dead reclining,

That pale, dead mother lay!
A smile her lip was wreathing,
A smile of hope and love,
As though she still were breathing -
"There's light for us above!"

Tam. Who?

llad. None knows his lineage, age, or name: his locks

Are like the snows of Caucasus; his eyes
Beam with the wisdom of collected ages.
In green, unbroken years, he sees, 't is said,
The generations pass, like autumn fruits,
Garnered, consumed, and springing fresh to
life,

Again to perish, while he views the sun,
The seasons roll, in rapt serenity,
And high communion with celestial powers.
Some say 't is Shem, our father, some say
Enoch,

And some Melchizedek.

Rose like the gate of Paradise, his mouth Was musical as its bright guardians' songs. Tam. What did he tell thee?

what wisdom fell From lips so hallowed?

Had.

The

Oh!

Whether he possess Tetragrammaton, -the powerful Name

Inscribed on Moses' rod, by which he wrought

Unheard of wonders, which constrains the Heavens

To part with blessings, shakes the earth, and rules

The strongest Spirits; or if God hath given
A delegated power, I cannot tell.
But 't was from him I learned their fate,
their fall,

Who, crewhile, wore resplendent crowns in
Heaven;

Now, scattered through the earth, the air, the sea.

Them he compels to answer, and from them Has drawn what Moses, nor no mortal ear, Has ever heard.

Drew such dire punishment?

Robbed of some native splendor, and cast down,

"Tis true, from Heaven; but not deformed, and foul,

Revengeful, malice-working Fiends, as fools

Suppose. They dwell, like Princes, in the clouds;

Sun their bright pinions in the middle sky;
Or arch their palaces beneath the hills,
With stones inestimable studded so, ́
That sun or stars were useless there.
Tam.
Good heavens!
Had. He bade me look on rugged Cau-

casus,

Crag piled on crag beyond the utmost ken Naked, and wild, as if creation's ruins Were heaped in one immeasurable chain Of barren mountains, beaten by the storms Of everlasting winter. But within