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
Through this beautiful world of ours,

And dear as a smile on an old friend's face
Is the smile of the bright, bright flowers!
They tell us of wand'rings by woods and streams;
They tell us of lanes and trees;

But the children of showers and sunny beams
Have lovelier tales than these-

The bright, bright flowers!

They tell of a season when men were not,
When earth was by angels trod,
And leaves and flowers in every spot
Burst forth at the call of God,

When spirits, singing their hymns at even,

Wander'd by wood and glade,

And the Lord looked down from the highest heaven,
And bless'd what He had made-

The bright, bright flowers!

That blessing remaineth upon them still,
Though often the storm-cloud lowers,
And frequent tempests may soil and chill
The gayest of earth's fair flowers.
When Sin and Death, with their sister Grief,
Made a home in the hearts of men,
The blessing of God on each tender leaf
Preserved in their beauty then-

The bright, bright flowers!

The lily is lovely as when it slept
On the waters of Eden's lake;

The woodbine breathes sweetly as when it crept
In Eden, from brake to brake.

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
The disembodied spirits of the dead,

When all of thee that time could wither sleeps
And perishes among the dust we tread?

For I shall feel the sting of ceaseless pain
If there I meet thy gentle presence not;
Nor hear the voice I love, nor read again
In thy serenest eyes the tender thought.

Will not thy own meek heart demand me there?
That heart whose fondest throbs to me were given?
My name on earth was ever in thy prayer,

Shall it be banish'd from thy tongue in heaven?

In meadows fann'd by heaven's life-breathing wind,
In the resplendence of that glorious sphere,
And larger movements of the unfetter'd mind,
Wilt thou forget the love that join'd us here?

The love that lived through all the stormy past,
And meekly with my harsher nature bore,
And deeper grew, and tenderer to the last,
Shall it expire with life, and be no more?

A happier lot than mine, and larger light,
Await thee there; for thou hast bow'd thy will
In cheerful homage to the rule of right,
And lovest all, and renderest good for ill.

For me, the sordid cares in which I dwell,

Shrink and consume my heart, as heat the scroll;
And wrath has left its scar-that fire of hell
Has left its frightful scar upon my soul.

Yet though thou wear'st the glory of the sky,
Wilt thou not keep the same beloved name,
The same fair thoughtful brow, and gentle eye,
Lovelier in heaven's sweet climate, yet the same?

Shalt thou not teach me, in that calmer home,
The wisdom that I learn'd so ill in this-
The wisdom which is love-till I become
Thy fit companion in that land of bliss?

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,
O Mary! make thy gentle lap our pillow!
Bend o'er us like a bower, my beautiful

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,
And wept, I knew not why: until there rose
From the near school-room, voices, that, alas!
Were but one echo from a world of woes-
The harsh and grating strife of tyrant and of foes.
Alas, that love should be a blight and snare
To those who seek all sympathies in one!-
Such once I sought in vain; then black despair,
The shadow of a starless night, was thrown
Over the world in which I moved alone:--
Yet never found I one not false to me,

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
Fell, like bright Spring upon some herbless plain,
How beautiful and calm and free thou wert
In thy young wisdom, when the mortal chain
Of Custom thou didst burst and rend in twain,
And walk'd as free as light the clouds among,
Which many an envious slave then breathed in vain
From his dim dungeon, and my spirit sprung
To meet thee from the woes which had begirt it long.

No more alone through the world's wilderness,
Although I trod the paths of high intent,
I journey'd now: no more companionless,
Where solitude is like despair, I went.—
There is the wisdom of a stern content
When Poverty can blight the just and good,
When Infamy dares mock the innocent,

And cherish'd friends turn with the multitude
To trample: this was ours, and we unshaken stood!

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
Time may interpret to the sit

Yet in the paleness of tiny tuvagets tudn
And in the light tuine amp ambasa
And in thy sweetest smiet. air xil bar, wont
And in thy gentle spese a pr

Is whispered, to subdue my

And through thine ever, ever i tu
A lamp of vestal fire burning inveruda;

They say that thou wert lover from too
Of glorious parents thou aspirant

I wonder not-for One tweef to kar
Whose life was like a setting praser and
Which clothed thee in tus talisauki w
Of its departing glory; stil er kun
Shines on thee, througi tu sujet, hamë e ma
Which shake these latter are

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