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ON VISITING A SCENE OF CHILDHOOD.
Long years had elaps'd since I gaz'd on the scene, Which my fancy still rob’d in its freshness of green, The spot where, a school-boy, all thoughtless, I
stray'd By the side of the stream, in the gloom of the shade. I thought of the friends, who had roam'd with me
there, When the sky was so blue, and the flowers were so
fair, All scatter'd ! all sunder'd by mountain and wave, And some in the silent embrace of the grave! I thought of the green banks, that circled around, With wild-flowers, and sweet-briar, and eglantine
crown'd: I thought of the river, all quiet and bright As the face of the sky on a blue summer night: And I thought of the trees, under which we had stray'd,
shade: Of the broad leafy boughs, with their coolness of And I hop'd, though disfigur’d, some token to find Of the names, and the carvings, impress'd on the rind. All eager, I hasten’d the scene to behold, Render'd sacred and dear by the feelings of old; And I deem'd that, unalter'd,
my eye should explore This refuge, this haunt, this Elysium of yore. 'Twas a dream !-not a token or trace could I view Of the names that I lov’d, of the trees that I knew : Like the shadows of night at the dawning of day, “Like a tale that is told,"—they had vanish'd away.
And methought the lone river that murmur'd along,
THE WORLD WE HAVE NOT SEEN. THERE is a world we have not seen,
That time shall never dare destroy, Where mortal footstep hath not been,
Nor ear hath caught its sounds of joy. There is a region, lovelier far
Than sages tell, or poets sing, Brighter than summer beauties are,
And softer than the tints of spring. There is a world-and O how blest!
Fairer than prophets ever told; And never did an angel guest
One half its blessedness unfold. It is all holy and serene,
The land of glory and repose; And there, to dim the radiant scene,
The tear of sorrow never flows.
It is not fann'd by summer gale;
'Tis not refresh'd by vernal showers;
For there are known no evening hours.
With a pure radiance all its own;
Flow round it from the Eternal Throne.
Too glorious for the eye to trace,
grace. In vain the philosophic eye
May seek to view the fair abode, Or find it in the curtain’d sky:
It is the DWELLING PLACE OF God.
THE SIN OF WAR.
upon the seasons, as they come In beautiful succession, from the heavens, With bud and blossoming, and fruits, and snows.
There is no war among them: they pass on,
cheerful voice of sympathy
Oh! when the planet shone o'er Bethlehem, And light came round the shepherds on the hills, And wise men rose in wonder from their dreams, There came a voice sublime
the winds, Proclaiming Peace above a prostrate world! The morning stars sang Peace : the sons of God Struck all their heavenly lyres again; and Peace Died in symphonious murmurs round the babe. Thus broke salvation's morning. But the day Has heard new sounds; and dissonant and dire, The mingling tumult swell’d the coming storm, Darkening its path with black, portentous front, Until it burst in havoc and in war ! Oh! may that fearful eventide of time, , Find man upon the dust in penitence, In the strong brotherhood of peace and prayer.
RETALIATION. A few years since, at some provincial college, (Places which always rhyme, if nothing else, with
Thus thought a genius-ergo, he grew lazy ;
Press’d by privation,
A glance of wit,
He had another
Old academic brother
in business as a seller
With vessels rare