POEMS.

THE LEE-SHORE.

SLEET! and Hail! and Thunder!

And ye Winds that rave,

Till the sands thereunder

Tinge the sullen wave

Winds, that like a Demon,
Howl with horrid note
Round the toiling Seaman,
In his tossing boat-

From his humble dwelling,
On the shingly shore,
Where the billows swelling,
Keep such hollow roar—

From that weeping Woman,

Seeking with her cries,

Succor superhuman

From the frowning skies

From the Urchin pining

For his Father's kneeFrom the lattice shining, Drive him out to sea!

Let broad leagues dissever Him from yonder foam ;— Oh, God! to think Man ever

Comes too near his Home!

THE DEATH-BED.

WE watch'd her breathing thro' the night,
Her breathing soft and low,

As in her breast the wave of life
Kept heaving to and fro.

So silently we seem'd to speak,

So slowly mov'd about,

As we had lent her half our powers

To eke her living out.

Our very hopes belied our fears,
Our fears our hopes belied—
We thought her dying when she slept,
And sleeping when she died.

For when the morn came dim and sad,
And chill with early showers,

Her quiet eyelids clos'd—she had

Another morn than ours.