A CALM WINTER NIGHT.

Thou hast thy decorations too, although
Thou art austere; thy studded mantle gay
With icy brilliants, which as proudly glow
As erst Golconda's; and thy pure array
Of regal ermine, when the drifted snow
Envelopes Nature; till her features seem
Like pale, like lovely ones, seen when we dream.

H

A CALM WINTER NIGHT.

ow beautiful this night! the balmiest sigh

Which vernal Zephyrs breathe in Evening's ear
Were discord to the speaking quietude

That wraps this moveless scene. Heaven's ebon vault,
Studded with stars unutterably bright,

Through which the moon's unclouded grandeur rolls,
Seems like a canopy which Love had spread
To curtain her sleeping world. Yon gentle hills,
Robed in a garment of untrodden snow—
Yon darksome rocks, whence icicles depend,
So stainless that their white and glittering spires
Tinge not the moon's pure beam-yon castled steep
Whose banner hangeth o'er the time-worn tower
So idly, that wrapt Fancy deemeth it

A metaphor of peace;—all form a scene
Where musing Solitude might love to lift
Her soul above this sphere of earthliness;
Where Silence undisturbed might watch alone,
So cold, so bright, so still.

THE APPROACH OF WINTER.

HE Sun far southward bends his annual way,

THE The bleak north-east wind lays the forests bare,

The fruit ungathered quits the naked spray, And dreary Winter reigns o'er earth and air.

No mark of vegetable life is seen,

No bird to bird repeats his tuneful call; Save the dark leaves of some rude evergreen,

Save the lone redbreast on the moss-grown wall.

There is, who deems all climes, all seasons fair;
There is, who knows no restless passion's strife ;
Contentment, smiling at each idle care;

Contentment, thankful for the gift of life.

She finds in Winter many a view to please :

The morning landscape fringed with frost-work gay,
The sun at noon seen through the leafless trees,
The calm clear ether at the close of day.

She marks the advantage storms and clouds bestow,
When blustering Caurus purifies the air;

When moist Aquarius pours the fleecy snow

That makes the impregnate glebe a richer harvest bear.

She bids, for all, our grateful praise arise,

To Him whose mandate spake the world to form; Gave Spring's gay bloom, and Summer's cheerful skies,

And Autumn's corn-clad field, and Winter's sounding storm.

WINTER REFLECTIONS.

WINTER REFLECTIONS.

HE wintry West extends his blast,
And hail and rain does blaw,

THE

Or the stormy North sends driving forth. The blinding sleet and snaw;

While, tumbling brown, the burn comes down,
And roars frae bank to brae ;

And bird and beast in covert rest,
And pass the heartless day.

"The sweeping blast, the sky o'ercast,"
The joyless winter-day,

Let others fear, to me more dear
Than all the pride of May:

The tempest's howl, it soothes my soul,
My griefs it seems to join;
The leafless trees my fancy please,
Their fate resembles mine.

Thou Power supreme, whose mighty scheme These woes of mine fulfil,

Here, firm, I rest, they must be best,

Because they are Thy will!

Then all I want, (O do Thou grant

This one request of mine!)

Since to enjoy Thou dost deny

Assist me to resign.

A

H! why reposest thou so pale,
So very still in thy white veil,

Thou cherished Father-land? Where are the joyous lays of spring, The varied hue of summer's wing,

Thy glowing vestment bland?

A LAY IN DECEMBER.

But half-attired, thou slumberest now,

No flocks to seek thy pastures go,
O'er vales or mountains steep:

Silent is every warbler's lay,

No more the bee hums through the day; Yet art thou fair in sleep!

On all thy trees, on every bough,
Thousands of crystals sparkle now,
Where'er our eyes alight:

Firm on the spotless robe we tread,
Which o'er thy beauteous form is spread,
With glittering hoar-frost bright.

Our Father kind, who dwells above,
For thee this garment pure hath wove;
He watches over thee;

Therefore in peace thy slumber take,
Our Father will the weary wake,
New strength, new light to see.

Soon to the breath of Spring's soft sighs, Delighted thou again wilt rise,

In wondrous life so fair.

I feel those sighs breathe o'er the plainDear Nature, then rise up again

With flower-wreaths in thy hair.