As well might some arterial thread

Ask the whole frame to feel it gushing, While throbbing fierce from heel to head The vast aortic tide was rushing.

As well some hair-like nerve might strain
To set its special streamlet going,
While through the myriad-channelled
brain

The burning flood of thought was

flowing;

Or trembling fibre strive to keep

The springing haunches gathered shorter,

The sun is on Francisco's bay,

O'er Chesapeake the lighthouse gleam-
ing;

While summer girds the still bayou
In chains of bloom, her bridal token,
Monadnock sees the sky grow blue,
His crystal bracelet yet unbroken.

Yet Nature bears the selfsame heart
Beneath her russet-mantled bosom,
As where with burning lips apart

She breathes, and white magnolias
blossom;

The selfsame founts her chalice fill
With showery sunlight running over,

While the scourged racer, leap on leap, On fiery plain and frozen hill,

Was stretching through the last hot

quarter!

Ah me! you take the bud that came Self-sown in your poor garden's borders,

And hand it to the stately dame

That florists breed for, all she orders; She thanks you it was kindly meant

On myrtle-beds and fields of clover.

In one bright ring, with love for centre,

(A pale affair, not worth the keep-Fenced round with white and crimson

ing,)

Good morning; - and your bud is sent To join the tea-leaves used for sweeping.

Not always so, kind hearts and true,For such I know are round me beating;

Is not the bud I offer you,

bars,

No prowling treason dares to enter !

O brothers, home may be a word

To make affection's living treasure The wave an angel might have stirred

A stagnant pool of selfish pleasure; HOME! It is where the day-star springs And where the evening sun reposes,

Fresh gathered for the hour of meet- Where'er the eagle spreads his wings,

ing,

Pale though its outer leaves may be,
Rose-red in all its inner petals,

Where the warm life we cannot see

The life of love that gave it settles.

We meet from regions far away,

From northern pines to southern

roses !

A SENTIMENT.

A TRIPLE health to Friendship, Science, Art,

Like rills from distant mountains From heads and hands that own a com

Each in its turn the others' willing| But when the fiery days were done, And Autumn brought his purple haze,

slave, Each in its season strong to heal and save. Then, kindling in the slanted sun, The hillsides gleamed with golden

Friendship's blind service, in the hour

of need,

Wipes the pale face- and lets the vic

tim bleed.

Science must stop to reason and explain; ART claps his finger on the streaming vein.

maize.

The food was scant, the fruits were few:

A red-streak glistening here and there;
Perchance in statelier precincts grew
Some stern old Puritanic pear.

Austere in taste, and tough at core,
Its unrelenting bulk was shed,

But Art's brief memory fails the hand To ripen in the Pilgrim's store

Then sprang from many a rock-strewn Nor these the only gifts she brings;

field

The rippling grass, the nodding grain, Such growths as English meadows yield To scanty sun and frequent rain.

Look where the laboring orchard

groans,

And yields its beryl-threaded strings

For chestnut burs and hemlock cones

Browned by the heavy rubbing kine! For us the ambrosial pear displays

Till Heaven unsealed its hoarded springs, | "Forget not," they whisper, "your love

NEW ENGLAND, we love thee; no time Come, let us be cheerful, — remember

can erase

From the hearts of thy children the smile

on thy face.

T is the mother's fond look of affection and pride,

last night,

To-night, we harm nothing,
in the lump;

we love

As she gives her fair son to the arms of Here's a bumper to Maine, in the juice

his bride.

of the pump!

they be,

His bride may be fresher in beauty's Here's to all the good people, wherever young flower; She may blaze in the jewels she brings Who have grown in the shade of the liberty-tree;

with her dower.

But passion must chill in Time's pitiless We all love its leaves, and its blossoms and fruit,

blast; The one that first loved us will love to But pray have a care of the fence round the last. its root.

You have left the dear land of the lake We should like to talk big; it's a kind of a right,

and the hill,

But its winds and its waters will talk When the tongue has got loose and the waistband grown tight;

with you still.

But, as pretty Miss Prudence remarked | That will light the dark hour till its to her beau, danger has past; On its own heap of compost, no biddy There are prayers that will plead with the storm when it raves, And whisper "Be still!" to the turbulent waves.

should crow.

Enough! There are gentlemen waiting to talk,

Whose words are to mine as the flower Nay, think not that Friendship has to the stalk. called us in vain Stand by your old mother whatever be- To join the fair ring ere we break it fall; God bless all her children! Good night There is strength in its circle, —you to you all!

FAREWELL.

TO J. R. LOWELL.

again;

lose the bright star,

But its sisters still chain it, though

shining afar.

I give you one health in the juice of the vine,

FAREWELL, for the bark has her breast The blood of the vineyard shall mingle

with mine;

to the tide, And the rough arms of Ocean are Thus, thus let us drain the last dew

stretched for his bride;

drops of gold,

The winds from the mountain stream As we empty our hearts of the blessings

Though years have clipped the eagle's plume

That crowned the chieftain's bonnet,

There are hopes that play round her, The sun still sees the heather bloom,

like fires on the mast,

The silver mists lie on it;