A CHURCHYARD SCENE. Gliding across the sad retreat How beautiful their phantom feet! What years of vanish'd joy are fann'd In its white stillness! When the shade 33 This world's life, through a mist of tears! Vain hopes! Wild sorrows! Needless fears! Such is the scene around me now: A little churchyard on the brow Of a green pastoral hill; Its sylvan village sleeps below, And faintly, here, is heard the flow A place where all things mournful meet, With what a pensive beauty fall, Across the mossy mouldering wall, That rose-tree's clustered arches! See Bright through the blossoms leaves his,nest; 31 PARTED FRIENDS. In his own wild festivity. What lulling sound, and shadow cool, Oft have the lowly wine and bread, Now all beneath the turf are laid, On which they sat, and sang, and prayed. Ascends the tapering spire, that seems To heaven with all its dreams!- JOHN WILSON. Parted Friends. PARTED friends may meet again And the spirit freed from pain, Basks in friendship that will last TO THE RAINBOW. Worldly cares may sever wide- They shall once again be free. Death-the end of care and pain- Parted friends again may meet, Crown'd with mercy, O how sweet C. W. THOMSON. 35 Co the Rainbow. TRIUMPHAL arch, that fill'st the sky I ask not proud Philosophy To teach me what thou art. Still seem as to my childhood's sight A mid-way station given For happy spirits to alight Betwixt the earth and heaven. 36 TO THE RAINBOW. Can all that optics teach, unfold When Science from Creation's face And yet, fair bow, no fabling dreams, When o'er the green undeluged earth And when its yellow lustre smiled Methinks thy jubilee to keep, On earth delivered from the deep, TO THE RAINBOW. Nor ever shall the Muse's eye Be still the poet's theme! The earth to thee its incense yields, How glorious is thy girdle cast, As fresh in yon horizon dark, For, faithful to its sacred page, That first spoke peace to man. 37 T. CAMPBELL. |