SNOWBERRIES.

BALLS of snow for the Fairy Queen,
Shining 'midst leaves of glossy green,
Meet for the play of elvish sprite
Sporting upon the earth by night;
Fruit of the winter-snowballs rare-
We hail your berries, pure and fair,
Meet for the chaplet white and cold,
Winter wears when the year is old.

L. V.

THE VACANT PLACE.

My heart has indeed a vacant place;
I miss the light of a pleasant face,

That blithely welcomed my comings-in
From the long day's toil and the city's din.

And, ever, some weary thought will go
To her grave in the churchyard green and low;
Where they laid the dead of my home to rest
But not the angel that loves me best.

For safe, where no spoilers reach the store,
Our Shepherd keepeth one treasure more-
Not lost to memory-not lost to love,
But gone to our Father's house above.

W

THE GREENHOUSE.

HO loves a garden, loves a greenhouse too.
Unconscious of a less propitious clime,

There blooms exotic beauty, warm and snug,
While the winds whistle, and the snows descend.
The spiry myrtle with unwithering leaf
Shines there, and flourishes. The golden boast
Of Portugal and western India there.
The ruddier orange and the paler lime,

Peep through their polished foliage at the storm,
And seem to smile at what they need not fear.
The amomum there with intermingling flowers
And cherries hangs her twigs. Geranium boasts

Her crimson honours; and the spangled beau,
Ficoides, glitters bright the winter long.

All plants, of every leaf, that can endure

The winter's frown, if screened from his shrewd bite,
Live there, and prosper. Those Ausonia claims,
Levantine regions these: the Azores send

Their jessamine, her jessamine remote
Caffrarii: foreigners from many lands,
They form one social shade, as if convened
By magic summons of the Orphean lyre.

COWPER.

HE wind rocks the forest,

The clouds gather o'er;
The girl sitteth lonely

Beside the green shore;

The breakers are dashing with might, with might, And she mingles her sighs with the gloomy night, And her eyes are hot with tears.

"The dead heart is broken, And empty the earth

To the Wish never more can

The Sorrow give birth.

To her Father in Heaven may the Daughter now go; I have known all the joys that the world can bestowI have lived-I have loved!"

In vain, oh! how vainly

Flows tear upon tear; Human woe never waketh

Dull Death's heavy ear!