It is dearer to me to remember the North,
Where scarce the green leaf yet comes timidly

forth, To walk in thy gardens, and dream that I roam Through the verdureless fields and the forests of

Home.

If the golded-hued oriole sing from the tide,
Oh, the blue bird is sweeter by Delaware's side:
And the sound of that flood on the beaches so dear!
Ne'er ripples the river so pleasantly here.
Oh, the pebble-strown beaches, that echo all day
To the kill-deer's shrill shriek and the bank-swal-

low's lay, And at eve, when the harvest moon mellows the

shade, To the sigh of the lover, the laugh of the maid! China tree! though the blossoms, in chaplets, may

bond The brows of the brave, and the necks of the fond, Never think that fit garlands our oak cannot form, For heads as majestic, and bosoms as warm, They may sit in thy shade, but their dreams are

away, With the får hills and forests, yet naked the gray, With the floods roaring wildly, the fields lying bare, And the hearts,-oh, the hearts,—that make paradise there!

DR. BIRD.

SINCE I KNEW THEE! THE Spring is coming with her flowers

To bid the heaven and earth be gay; To breathe a pledge of happier hours,

And chase all gloomier thoughts away: The young birds hear her welcome voice;

And 'mid the budding trees rejoice;

I join them in their songs of gladness,

And feel the happiness I see;
Yet I have known no thought of sadness

Since I knew thee!

Mine are the prouder hopes of life,

The hopes that cannot dread decay,
That see no evil, fear no strife

To meet and grapple on the way;
The thoughts that thrill, the joys that bless
That language never can express-
All-all are mine—my bosom's treasure-

Hopes, joys, and thoughts—the happy threeMy life hath been a life of pleasure,

Since I knew thee!

For all these gifts what can I find

What offering wilt thou keep?
A changeless faith—a constant mind-
Devotion

pure

and deep-
Unwearying thoughts of thee and thine ?
These-my soul's idol 4shall be thine.
My heart I give not—that alone

My offering cannot be-
For ah! it never was my own
Since I knew thee!

ANON.

NATURE'S GIFTS.
I can find comfort in the words and looks

Of simple hearts and gentle souls ; and I
Can find companionship in ancient books,

When lonely on the grassy hills I lie,

Under the shadow of the tranquil sky; I can find music in the rushing brooks,

Or in the songs which dwell among the trees, And come in snatches on the summer breeze.

I can find treasure in the leafy showers

Which in the merry autumn-time will fall; And I can find strong love in buds and flowers, And beauty in the moonlight's silent hours.

There's nothing nature gives can fail to please, For there's a common joy pervading all.

ANON.

UNTRODDEN GROUND.
Lines suggested by a Nameless Landscape.
What avail, though earth be wide ?
All its beauty hath been spied !
Where's the vale that lies so still,
Bosom'd in so calm a hill,
That no wanderer ever found?
Where's the spot of holy ground ?
Isle, or peak, or promontory,
That hath not some human story,
Dark with guilt, or gloom'd with woe?
Where's the water's peaceful flow,
Lake, or sea, or river deep,
Resting in such dreamy sleep,
That no eye e'er look'd upon,
Save the stars, the moon, the sun ?
Where's the wood so dense and green,
That no human hut hath seen;
Where no war-song ever peal'd,
Where no savage lay conceal’d,

Since the day the world began ?
No where no where! all earth round
Is unholy, common ground,

And is trod by common man!
Poet, hail! and Painter, too!
There are regions known to you,
Mountains old and rivers wide,
That no eye but yours hath spied !
You behold, in valleys deep,
Quiet people with their sheep,

Like the shepherd-race of old
In the fabled years of gold !
You see rivers flowing on,
Golden with the setting sun;
And the little boats you see,
Sail upon them tranquilly!
You see cities, old and lone,
Built as of eternal stone,
Silent, stately, and sublime:
Relics of an ancient time,
Of a race long pass'd away.
Ye are stronger than decay!
Ye can people each old place,
With its gone, forgotten race,
Ye can know whate'er they knew!
Poet, hail! and Painter, 100,
Traveller ne'er was wise as you!

MARY HOWITT.

SPRING HYMN. How pleasant is the opening year!

The clouds of winter melt away; The flowers in beauty reappear;

The songster carols from the spray ; Lengthens the more refulgent day;

And bluer glows the arching sky; All things around us seem to say, “Christian! direct thy thoughts on high."

In darkness, through the dreary length

Of Winter, slept both bud and bloom; But nature now puts forth her strength,

And starts, renew'd, as from the tomb; Behold an emblem of thy doom,

O man!-a Star hath shone to save And morning yet shall reillume

The midnight darkness of the grave!

Yet ponder well, how then shall break

The dawn of second life on thee-
Shalt thou to hope—to bliss awake?

Or vainly strive God's wrath to flee?
Then shall pass forth the dread decree,

That makes or weal or woe thine own;
Up, and to work! Eternity
Must reap the harvest I'ime hath sown!

DELTA.

THE HEART.
The heart—the gifted heart-
Who may reveal its depths to human sight!

What eloquence impart,
The softness of its love-the grandeur of its might!

It is the seat of bliss,
The blessed home of all affections sweet;

It smiles where friendship is,
It glows wherever social feelings meet.

'Tis Virtue's hallow'd fane-
"Tis Freedom's first, and best, and noblest shield !

A strength that will remain,
When grosser powers and feebler spirits yield!

It is Religion's shrine,
From whence our holiest aspirations wing;

Where joys, which are divine,
And hopes, which are of heaven, alone may spring!

The fount of tendernessWhere every purer passion hath its birth,

To cheer-to charm-to bless And sanctify our pilgrimage on earth.

Oh heart! till life be o'er,
Shed round the light and warmth of thy dear flame,

And I will ask no more
Of earthly happiness or earthly fame!

CHARLES SWAIN.