and on, to life's sublimer things,
As if they had been used to track the universe with wings.

MAY.

Oh the merry May has pleasant hours,
And dreamily they glide,
As if they floated like the leaves
Upon a silver tide.
The trees are full of crimson buds,
And the woods are full of birds,
And the waters flow to music
Like a tune with pleasant words.

The verdure of the meadow-land
Is creeping to the hills,
The sweet, blue-bosom'd violets
Are blowing by the rills;
The lilac has a load of balm
For every wind that stirs,
And the larch stands green and beautiful
Amid the sombre firs.

There's perfume upon every wind--
Music in every tree--
Dews for the moisture-loving flowers--
Sweets for the sucking bee;
The sick come forth for the healing South,
The young are gathering flowers;
And life is a tale of poetry,
That is told by golden hours.

If 'tis not a true philosophy,
That the spirit when set free
Still lingers about its olden home,
In the flower and the tree,
It is very strange that our pulses thrill
At the tint of a voiceless thing,
And our hearts yearn so with tenderness
In the beautiful time of Spring.

ON SEEING THROUGH A DISTANT WINDOW
A BELLE COMPLETING HER TOILET
FOR A BALL.

'Tis well--'tis well--that clustering shade
Is on thy forehead sweetly laid;
And that light curl that slumbers by
Makes deeper yet thy depth of eye;
And that white rose that decks thy hair
Just wins the eye to linger there,
Yet makes it not to note the less
The beauty of that raven tress.

Thy coral necklace?--ear-rings too?
Nay--nay--not them--no darker hue
Than thy white bosom be to-night
On that fair neck the bar of light,
Or hide the veins that faintly glow
And wander in its living snow.

What!--yet another? can it be
That neck needs ornament to thee?--
Yet not thy jewels!--they are bright,
But that dark eye has softer light,
And tho' each gem had been a star,
Thy simple self were lovelier far--
Yet stay!--that string of matchless pearl?
Nay--wear it--wear it--radiant girl!
For ocean's best of pure and white
Should only be thy foil to-night.

Aye, turn thee round! 'tis