FLOWERS. This poem was cut from one of the newspapers many years ago. The author's name is not known. OH! they look'd upward in every place And dear as a smile on an old friend's face But the children of showers and sunny beams The bright, bright flowers! They tell of a season when men were not, When spirits, singing their hymns at even, Wander'd by wood and glade, And the Lord looked down from the highest heaven, The bright, bright flowers! That blessing remaineth upon them still, The bright, bright flowers! The lily is lovely as when it slept The woodbine breathes sweetly as when it crept They were left as a proof of the loveliness Of Adam and Eve's first home: They are here as a type of the joys that bless The just in the world to come The bright, bright flowers! THE FUTURE LIFE. By BRYANT, the American poet. How shall I know thee in the sphere which keeps When all of thee that time could wither sleeps For I shall feel the sting of ceaseless pain Will not thy own meek heart demand me there? Shall it be banish'd from thy tongue in heaven? In meadows fann'd by heaven's life-breathing wind, The love that lived through all the stormy past, A happier lot than mine, and larger light, For me, the sordid cares in which I dwell, Shrink and consume my heart, as heat the scroll; Yet though thou wear'st the glory of the sky, Shalt thou not teach me, in that calmer home, A DAY-DREAM. COLERIDGE is remarkable for the suggestive character of his compositions. He not only conveys his own beautiful and profound thoughts to the reader, but makes the reader think for himself and create new thoughts of his own. This is remarkably seen in the following:My eyes make pictures when they're shut :- I see a fountain large and fair, A willow and a ruin'd hut, And thee, and me, and Mary there, A wild rose roofs the ruin'd shed, And that and summer well agree; And lo! where Mary leans her head, green Two dear names carved upon the tree! willow! And Mary's tears, they are not tears of sorrow: Our sister and our friend will both be here to-morrow. 'Twas day! But now, few, large and bright, The stars are round the crescent moon! And now it is a dark, warm night, The balmiest of the month of June. A glow-worm fallen, and on the marge remounting Shines, and its shadow shines, fit stars for our sweet fountain! O, ever, ever be thou blest! For dearly, Nora! love I thee! This brooding warmth across my breast, This depth of tranquil bliss-ah, me! Fount, tree, and shed are gone, I know not whither But in one quiet room we three are still together. The shadows dance upon the wall, By the still-dancing fire-flames made; And now they slumber, moveless all! And now they melt to one deep shade! When I walked forth upon the glittering grass, Hard hearts, and cold, like weights of icy stone Which crush'd and wither'd mine, that could not be Aught but a lifeless clog, until revived by thee. Thou Friend, whose presence on my wintry heart No more alone through the world's wilderness, And cherish'd friends turn with the multitude Now has descended a serener hour, And with inconstant fortune, friends return; Though suffering leaves the knowledge and the power Which says:-Let scorn be not repaid with scorn. And from thy side two gentle babes are born To fill our home with smiles, and thus are we Most fortunate beneath life's beaming morn: And these delights, and thou, have been to me The parents of the Song I consecrate to thee. And what art thou? I IN DE SARE AP Yet in the paleness of tiny tuvagets tudn Is whispered, to subdue my And through thine ever, ever i tu They say that thou wert lover from too I wonder not-for One tweef to kar The shelter, from thy Sins, of als One voice came forth from Which was the echo of ture bone′′ And the tumultuous word bu As some lone man who is 2 The music of his ons Fell on the pale oppref And Faith, and Custo |