And let the misty mountain winds be free
To blow against thee: and, in after years,
When these wild ecstacies shall be matured
Into a sober pleasure, when thy mind
Shall be a mansion for all lovely forms,
Thy memory be as a dwelling-place

For all sweet sounds and harmonies; oh! then,
If solitude, or fear, or pain, or grief,

Should be thy portion, with what healing thoughts
Of tender joy wilt thou remember me,
And these my exhortations!

For I have learned

To look on nature, not as in the hour

WORDSWORTH.

Of thoughtless youth; but hearing often times
The still, sad music of humanity,

Nor harsh, nor grating, though of ample power
To chasten and subdue. And I have felt
A presence that disturbs me with the joy
Of elevated thoughts; a sense sublime
Of something far more deeply interfused,
Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns,
And the round ocean, and the living air,
And the blue sky, and in the mind of man:
A motion and a spirit, that impels

All thinking things, all objects of all thought,
And rolls through all things. Therefore am I still
A lover of the meadows, and the woods
And mountains; and of all that we behold
From this green earth; of all the mighty world
Of eyes and ear, both what they half create,
And what perceive: well pleased to recognize
In nature and the language of the sense,
The anchor of my purest thoughts, the nurse,
The guide, the guardian of my heart and soul.
WORDSWORTH.

THE SOCIAL PRINCIPLE IN NATURE.

"As no man liveth to himself, so no thing lith to itself."

As gravitation pervades all space, and arranges systems of worlds around a common centre,-the social principle reaches through the universe of mind, associating all the orders of intelligent beings, and diffusing everywhere a spiritual attraction of heart to heart, mind to mind, man to man, and the spirit of man to the great Father of all Spirits. All natural objects are mutually subject to this mystic influence. You cannot go into the meadow and pluck up a single daisy by the roots, without breaking up a

society of nice relations, and detecting a principle more extensive and refined than mere gravitation. The handfull of earth that follows the tiny roots of the little flower, is replete with social elements. A little social circle had been formed around that germinating daisy. The sunbeam, the dewdrop, and the electric fluid met there, and the soft summer breeze came whispering through the tall grass to join the silent concert. And the earth took them to its bosom and introduced them to the daisy germ: and they all went to work to show that flower to the sun. Each sent forth its genial influence, and nursed "the tender thing" with an aliment that made it grow. And when it lifted its eyes towards the sky, they wove a soft carpet of grass for its feet. And the sun saw it through the green leaves, and smiled as he passed on; and then by starlight and by moonlight they worked on. And the daisy lifted up its head: and one morning, while the sun was looking upon the dews, it put on its silver-rimmed diadem and showed its yellow petals to the stars; and it nodded to the little birds that were flying in the sky, and each sung a native air at the coronation of that daisy. Everything that gathered round that wee modest flower, was a member of the social circle, conspiring to its harmony and adding to its music. Heaven, earth, sky, and sea were its companions; the sun and stars walked hand in hand with it as kindly as if they never saw another flower. Even the distant ocean sent the floating clouds to brighten its countenance when the vivifying sun appeared. But this little social system was one of the least concentric circles which go on increasing in diameter, until the last completes the infinite series of harmonies by sweeping round the whole universe.-BURRITT.

THE DAISY.

Not worlds on worlds in phalanx deep,
Need we to prove a God is here;
The daisy, fresh from Nature's sleep,
Tells of His hand in lines as clear.

For who but He who arched the skies,
And pours the day-spring's living flood,

Wondrous alike in all He tries,

Could raise the daisy's purple bud!

Mould its green cup, its wiry stem,
Its fringed border nicely spin,
And cut the gold-embossed gem,
That, set in silver, gleams within!

And fling it, unrestrained and free,
O'er hill and dale, and desert sod,
That man, where'er he walks, may see
In every step the stamp of God.

DR. GOOD.

THE GLADNESS OF NATURE.

Is this a time to be cloudy and sad,
When Nature smiles above and around;
When even the deep blue heavens look glad,

And gladness breathes from the blossoming ground?

There are notes of joy from the blackbird and wren,
And the gossip of swallows through all the sky;
The ground-squirrel gaily chirps by his den,
And the wilding bee hums merrily by.

The clouds are at play in the azure space,

And their shadows sport in the deep green vale;
And here they stretch to the frolic chase,
And there they roll in the easy gale.

There's a dance of leaves in that aspen bower,
There's a titter of winds in that beechen tree,
There's a smile on the fruit, and a smile on the flower,
And a laugh from the brook that runs to the sea.

Away, away through the wide, wide sky,
The fair blue fields that before us lie:
Each sun with the worlds that round us roll,
Each planet poised on her turning pole,

BRYANT.

With her isles of green, and her clouds of white,
And her waters that lie like fluid light,
For the source of glory uncovers his face,
And the brightness o'erflows unbounded space;
And we drink, as we go, the luminous tides,
In our ruddy air and our blooming sides;
Lo! yonder the living splendours play!
Away! on our joyous path away!

NATURE AFTER A SUMMER SHOWER.

The rain is o'er. How dense and bright
Yon pearly clouds reposing lie
Cloud above cloud, a glorious sight,
Contrasting with the dark blue sky!

In grateful silence earth receives
The general blessing; fresh and fair,
Each flower expands its little leaves,
As glad the cominon joy to share.

The softened sunbeams pour around
A fairy light, uncertain, pale;
The wind blows cool; the scented ground
Is breathing odours on the gale.

The sun breaks forth; from off the scene
Its floating veil of mist is flung;
And all the wilderness of green

With trembling drops of light is hung.

Now gaze on Nature, yet the same-
Glowing with life, by breezes fanned,
Luxuriant, lovely-as she came,

Fresh in her youth, from God's own hand.

Hear the rich music of that voice,

Which sounds from all below, above; She calls her children to rejoice,

And round them throws her arms of love.

ANDREW NORTON.

L'ALLEGRO.*

Haste thee, Mirth, and bring with thee
Jest, and youthful Jollity,

Quips and Cranks, and wanton Wiles,
Nods and Becks, and wreathed Smiles,
Such as hang on Hebe's cheek,
And love to live in dimple sleek;

Sport that wrinkled care derides,

And Laughter holding both his sides.
Come, and trip it, as you go,
On the light fantastic toe;

And in thy right hand lead with thee
The mountain-nymph, sweet Liberty;
And, if I give thee honour due,
Mirth, admit me of thy crew,
To live with her, and live with thee,
In unreproved pleasures free;
To hear the lark begin his flight,
And singing startle the dull night,
From his watch-tower in the skies,
Till the dappled dawn doth rise;
Then to come, in spite of sorrow,
And at my window bid good-morrow,
Through the sweet-briar, or the vine,
Or the twisted eglantine:

* The merry or cheerful man.

Oft listening how the hounds and horn
Cheerly rouse the slumbering morn,
From the side of some hoar hill,
Through the high wood echoing shrill :
Some time walking, not unseen,
By hedge-row elms, on hillocks green,
Right against the eastern gate

Where the great sun begins his state,
Robed in flames, and amber light,
The clouds in thousand liveries dight;
While the ploughman, near at hand,
Whistles o'er the furrow'd land,
And the milk-maid singeth blithe,
And the mower whets his scythe,
And every shepherd tells his tale
Under the hawthorn in the dale.

Straight mine eye hath caught new pleasures,
Whilst the landscape round it measures;

Russet lawns, and fallows gray,

Where the nibbling flocks do stray;
Mountains, on whose barren breast
The labouring clouds do often rest;
Meadows trim with daisies pied,
Shallow brooks, and rivers wide:
Towers and battlements it sees
Bosom'd high in tufted trees.

Sometimes with secure delight
The upland hamlets will invite,
When the merry bells ring round,
And the jocund rebecks sound
To many a youth, and many a maid,
Dancing in the chequer'd shade;

And young and old come forth to play
On a sunshine holiday.

Tower'd cities please us then,

And the busy hum of men,

Where throngs of knights and barons bold,
In garb of peace, high triumphs hold;
With pomp, and feast, and revelry,
Strange masks and antique pageantry;
Such sights as youthful poets dream,
On summer eves, by haunted stream,
And ever against eating cares
Lap me in melodious airs,
Untwisting all the chains that tie
The hidden soul of harmony.

May sweetest Shakspeare, Fancy's child,

Warble his native wood-notes wild.

These delights if thou canst give,

Mirth with thee I mean to live.

MILTON.