She lifts the soft fringe from her dark-blue eye
With a radiant smile of love,

And the diamonds that o'er her bosom lie
Are bright as the gems above;

Where noon lies down in the breezy shade
Of the glorious forest bowers,

And the beautiful birds from the sunny glades
Sit nodding amongst the flowers,

While the holy child of the mountain-spring
Steals past with a murmured song,

And the honey-bees sleep in the bells that swing
Its garlanded banks along;

Where Day steals away, with a young bride's blush,
To the soft green couch of Night,

And the Moon throws o'er, with a holy hush,

Her curtain of gossamer light;

And the scraph that sings in the hemlock dell

(Oh, sweetest of birds is she!)

Fills the dewy breeze with a trancing swell
Of melody rich and free.

There are sumptuous mansions with marble walls,
Surmounted by glittering towers,

Where fountains play in the perfumed halls

Amongst exotic flowers:

They are suitable homes for the haughty in mind,

Yet a wild-wood home for me,

Where the pure bright streams, and the mountain-wind,

And the bounding heart, are free!

Lydia Jane Pierson.

AUCTION EXTRAORDINARY.

I DREAMED a dream in the midst of my slumbers,
And as fast as I dreamed it, it came into numbers;
My thoughts ran along in such beautiful metre,
I'm sure I ne'er saw any poetry sweeter:
It seemed that a law had been recently made,
That a tax on old bachelors' pates should be laid;
And in order to make them all willing to marry,
The tax was as large as a man could well carry.
The bachelors grumbled, and said 'twas no use-
'Twas horrid injustice and horrid abuse,

And declared that to save their own hearts' blood from

spilling,

Of such a vile tax they would not pay a shilling.
But the rulers determined them still to pursue,
So they set all the old bachelors up at vendue:
A crier was sent through the town to and fro,
To rattle his bell, and his trumpet to blow,
And to call out to all he might meet in his way,
"Ho! forty old bachelors sold here to-day :"
And presently all the old maids in the town,
Each in her very best bonnet and gown,
From thirty to sixty, fair, plain, red, and pale,
Of every description, all flocked to the sale.
The auctioneer then in his labor began,
And called out aloud, as he held up a man,
"How much for a bachelor? who wants to buy?"
In a twink, every maiden responded, “I,—I."
In short, at a highly extravagant price,

The bachelors all were sold off in a trice:

And forty old maidens, some younger, some older,
Each lugged an old bachelor home on her shoulder.

THE QUAKER WIDOW.

THEE finds me in the garden, Hannah-come in! 'Tis kind of thee

To wait until the Friends were gone, who came to comfort me.

The still and quiet company a peace may give, indeed, But blessed is the single heart that comes to us at need.

Come, sit thee down! Here is the bench where Benjamin would sit

On First-day afternoons in spring, and watch the swa1lows flit:

He loved to smell the sprouting box, and hear the pleasant bees

Go humming round the lilacs and through the apple

trees.

I think he loved the spring: not that he cared for flowers: most men

Think such things foolishness--but we were first acquainted then,

One spring the next he spoke his mind; the third I was his wife,

And in the spring (it happened so) our children entered life.

He was but seventy-five: I did not think to lay him.

yet

In Kennett graveyard, where at Monthly Meeting first

we met.

The Father's mercy shows in this: 'tis better I should be Picked out to bear the heavy cross-alone in age-than he.

We've lived together fifty years: it seems but one long day,

One quiet Sabbath of the heart, till he was called away; And as we bring from Meeting-time a sweet contentment home,

So, Hannah, I have store of peace for all the davs to

come.

I mind (for I can tell thee now) how hard it was to know If I had heard the spirit right, that told me I should go; For father had a deep concern upon his mind that day, But mother spoke for Benjamin-she knew what best to say.

Then she was still: they sat awhile: at last she spoke again,

"The Lord incline thee to the right!" And "Thou shalt have him, Jane !”

My father said. I cried. Indeed, 'twas not the least of shocks,

For Benjamin was Hicksite, and father Orthodox.

I thought of this ten years ago, when daughter Ruth - we lost:

Her husband's of the world, and yet I could not see her crossed.

She wears, thee knows, the gayest gowns, she hears a hireling priest

Ah, dear! the cross was ours: her life's a happy one, at least.

Perhaps she'll wear a plainer dress when she's as old

as I:

Would thee believe it, Hannah? once I felt temptation

nigh!

My wedding-gown was ashen silk, too simple for my

taste;

I wanted lace around the neck, and a ribbon at the waist.

How strange it seemed to sit with him upon the women's side!

I did not dare to lift my eyes: I felt more fear than

pride,

Till, "In the presence of the Lord," he said, and then there came

A holy strength upon my heart, and I could say the same.

I used to blush when he came near, but then I showed no sign;

With all the meeting looking on, I held his hand in

mine.

It seemed my bashfulness was gone, now I was his for life:

Thee knows the feeling, Hannah-thee, too, hast been a wife.

As home we rode, I saw no fields look half so green as

ours;

The woods were coming into leaf, the meadows full of flowers;

The neighbors met us in the lane, and every face was

kind

'Tis strange how lively every thing comes back upon my mind.