ng fire through which
we have come strong and bright, the sharp knife whereby the gnawing
worms of error, and corruption and inevitable death have been cut from
the heart of our goodly tree.

GOD'S HARP.

FROM AN UNWRITTEN POEM.

God struck the heavens' holy Harp,
While sang the grand celestial choir.
Earth heard the awful sound, and saw
The trembling of the golden wire.
'Twas thunder to the stranger ear,
And to the eye the lightning's fire.

AUTUMN LEAVES.

'O Heaven! were man
But constant, he were perfect; that one error
Fills him with faults, makes him run through all sins.'

_Two Gentlemen of Verona_

Are they truly dying,
All the summer leaves?
Will the blasts of autumn
Strip the happy trees?
Bright the glowing foliage
Paints the misty air--
Crimson, purple, golden--
Must they die--so fair?

Where has flown the sunshine
Wooed them to their birth,
Tempting them to flutter
Far above the earth?
Ruthless did it leave them
In their hour of bloom,
Let the chill blasts whisper
Tales of death and doom?

Rapidly they robed them
In each varied hue,
Hoping thus the sunshine
To attract anew;
But the fickle glitter
Looked in anger down,
Freezing up the life-pulse
With an icy frown.

Then the happy radiance
Sinks to rise no more;
Leaves of gold and crimson
Strew earth's gloomy floor.
Gone their summer glory,
Lifeless, lost, they lie;
Wilted, withered, drifting
As winds will, they fly.

Thus in woman's bosom
Love wakes bud and bloom,
'Neath his glowing sunshine
Thinking not of doom;
Covering soft life's desert
Spread the branches green,
Hope's bright birds sing through them--
Close the leafy screen.

Through the quivering foliage
Falls a sudden fear!
Leaves are rustling, trembling--
Feel _change_ drawing near!
Brighter then they robe them,
Call on every hue,
Color every fibre--
Love to win anew.

Summon gold and crimson,
Bright as dyed in blood;
Hectic fever flushes
Pour in anguished flood!
Gone the healthful quiet
Of the summer green;
Hope-birds turn to ravens,
Sighs the leafy screen.

Love looks d