MIDSUMMER.

A

POWER is on the earth and in the air

From which the vital spirit shrinks afraid, And shelters him, in nooks of deepest shade, From the hot steam and from the fiery glare. Look forth upon the earth-her thousand plants Are smitten; even the dark sun-loving maize Faints in the field beneath the torrid blaze; The herd beside the shaded fountain pants; For life is driven from all the landscape brown; The bird has sought his tree, the snake his den, The trout floats dead in the hot stream, and men Drop by the sun-stroke in the populous town; As if the Day of Fire had dawned, and sent Its deadly breath into the firmament.

New York, 1826.

'United States Literary Gazette," July, 1826.

A SUMMER RAMBLE.

THE erous silence

HE quiet August noon has come;

ΤΗ

A slumberous silence fills the sky,

The fields are still, the woods are dumb,
In glassy sleep the waters lie.

And mark yon soft white clouds that rest
Above our vale, a moveless throng;

The cattle on the mountain's breast
Enjoy the grateful shadow long.

Oh, how unlike those merry hours,

In early June, when Earth laughs out, When the fresh winds make love to flowers, And woodlands sing and waters shout.

When in the grass sweet voices talk,
And strains of tiny music swell
From every moss-cup of the rock,
From every nameless blossom's bell.

But now a joy too deep for sound,

A peace no other season knows, Hushes the heavens and wraps the ground, The blessing of supreme repose.

Away! I will not be, to-day,

The only slave of toil and care, Away from desk and dust! away! I'll be as idle as the air.

Beneath the open sky abroad,

Among the plants and breathing things, The sinless, peaceful works of God, I'll share the calm the season brings.

Come, thou, in whose soft eyes I see
The gentle meanings of thy heart,
One day amid the woods with me,
From men and all their cares apart.

And where, upon the meadow's breast,
The shadow of the thicket lies,
The blue wild-flowers thou gatherest
Shall glow yet deeper near thine eyes.

Come, and when mid the calm profound,
1 turn, those gentle eyes to seek,
Liv, like the lovely landscape round,
tina,

O miocence and peace shall speak.

Rest here, beneath the unmoving shade,
And on the silent valleys gaze,
Winding and widening, till they fade
In yon soft ring of summer haze.

The village trees their summits rear
Still as its spire, and yonder flock
At rest in those calm fields appear
As chiselled from the lifeless rock.

One tranquil mount the scene o'erlooks-
There the hushed winds their sabbath keep,
While a near hum from bees and brooks
Comes faintly like the breath of sleep.

Well may the gazer deem that when,
Worn with the struggle and the strife,
And heart-sick at the wrongs of men,
The good forsakes the scene of life;

Like this deep quiet that, awhile,
Lingers the lovely landscape o'er,
Shall be the peace whose holy smile
Welcomes him to a happier shore.

Great Barrington, 1826.

"New York Mirror," August, 1826.

THE TWO GRAVES.

IS a bleak wild hill, but green and bright

In the summer warmth and the mid-day light: There's the hum of the bee and the chirp of the wren And the dash of the brook from the alder-glen

There's the sound of a bell from the scattered flock, And the shade of the beech lies cool on the rock, And fresh from the west is the free wind's breath:There is nothing here that speaks of death.

Far yonder, where orchards and gardens lie,
And dwellings cluster, 'tis there men die,
They are born, they die, and are buried near,
Where the populous graveyard lightens the bier.
For strict and close are the ties that bind
In death the children of human-kind;
Yea, stricter and closer than those of life,-
Tis a neighborhood that knows no strife.
They are noiselessly gathered-friend and foe-
To the still and dark assemblies below.