MY WIFE AND CHILD. The tattoo beats, the lights are gone, The camp around in slumber lies; The night with solemn pace moves on, The shadows thicken o'er the skies; But sleep my weary eyes hath flown, And sad, uneasy thoughts arise.

I think of thee, oh! dearest one,
Whose love mine early life hath blessed-
Of thee and him-our baby son-
Who slumbers on thy gentle breast;
God of the tender, frail, and lone,
Oh! guard the little sleeper's rest!

And hover gently, hover near

To her, whose watchful eye is wet

Frederick Locker.

Locker, born in 1821, has published "London Lyrics' (1857), a volume of vers de société, which has passed through several editions. He has also edited a book of drawing-room poetry, called “Lyra Elegantiarum." His effusions at times seem to be colored somewhat by his reminiscences of Praed and Holmes; but he not unfrequently dashes into a style of his own. He assigns to Holmes the first place among living writers of vers de société. Locker may be read with pleasure, for his gayety is always sweet and genial.

ST. GEORGE'S, HANOVER SQUARE.

She passed up the aisle on the arm of her sire, A delicate lady in bridal attire,

Fair emblem of virgin simplicity;

Half London was there, and, my word, there were

few

Mrs. Welby (1821-1852) was born at St. Michael's, Md. Her maiden name was Coppuck. Her father removed to Louisville, Ky., in 1835, where, in 1838, she was married to Mr. Welby, a merchant of that city. She began to write for the Louisville Journal under the signature of "Amelia." Poe, not always an unbiassed judge, said of her: "As for our poetesses (an absurd but necessary word), few of them approach her." A volume of her poems was published in Boston in 1844, and went through four editions. Another appeared in New York in 1850.

Cornelius George Fenner.

AMERICAN.

A modest little volume of eighty-seven pages, entitled "Poems of Many Moods," appeared in Boston in 1846, published by Little & Brown. It was from the pen of Fenner, of whom we know little except that he was born in Providence in 1822, and died in 1847 in Cincinnati, where he had been settled as a Unitarian minister. His "Gulf-Weed" shows that young as he was he had in him the elements of the true poet.

TWILIGHT AT SEA:-A FRAGMENT.
The twilight hours, like birds flew by,
As lightly and as free;
Ten thousand stars were in the sky,
Ten thousand on the sea;

WINNIPISEOGEE LAKE.

The blue waves gently kiss the strand,
And flow along the pebbly shore,

Then rippling leave the verdant land,

And seek the lake's calm breast once more.

No white sail gleams upon the wave,

Nor motion hath it, save its own Bright flow of waters, and no sound Save its own gentle moan.

And deep and pure the summer blue
Reflected in its bosom lies,-
And mirrored there intensely true

The thousand-tinted foliage dyes!
Far towering stretch the pine-trees round,
And from those leafy seas so dim
I hear the wind's mysterious sound,
Like faint heard angel's hymn.

Nature, kind mother! from this scene
Of holy and serenest calm,
May the sad soul a lesson glean,

A soothing tone 'mid life's alarm:To bid each stormy passion rest,

And lie in lake-like, calm repose, With sunshine sleeping on my breast, Till death-shades round me close.

GULF-WEED.

A weary weed, tossed to and fro,
Drearily drenched in the ocean brine,
Soaring high and sinking low,

Lashed along without will of mine;
Sport of the spoom of the surging sea,
Flung on the foam afar and anear;
Mark my manifold mystery,—

Growth and grace in their place appear.

I bear round berries, gray and red,
Rootless and rover though I be;

My spangled leaves, when nicely spread,
Arboresce as a trunkless tree;
Corals curious coat me o'er,

White and hard in apt array;
'Mid the wild waves' rude uproar,
Gracefully grow I, night and day.

Hearts there are on the sounding shore,
Something whispers soft to me,
Restless and roaming for evermore,
Like this weary weed of the sea;
Bear they yet on each beating breast

The eternal type of the wondrous whole :

Growth unfolding amid unrest,

Grace informing with silent soul.

Thomas Buchanan Read.

AMERICAN.

Read (1822-1872) was a native of Chester, Pa. His advantages of early education were limited. When fourteen, he went to Cincinnati, and became a pupil of the sculptor, Clevenger; but soon turned his attention to painting, in which he was financially successful. The poetical element was strong in his nature, as some of his shorter pieces show. He published three long poems, "The New Pastoral," "The House by the Sea," and "The Wagoner of the Alleghanies." In 1850, and again in 1853, he visited Italy. The last few years of his life were spent in Rome. Returning to New York, he died there after a short illness. Among his ballads "Sheridan's Ride" has been quite popular; but his "Drifting" (published 1859) is far the most memorable of his poems.

DRIFTING.

My soul to-day

Is far away,

Sailing the Vesuvian Bay;

My winged boat,

A bird afloat,

Swims round the purple peaks remote:

Round purple peaks

It sails, and seeks

Blue inlets and their crystal creeks,

Where high rocks throw,
Through deeps below,

A duplicated golden glow.

Far, vague, and dim,

The mountains swim; While on Vesuvius' misty brim, With outstretched hands, The gray smoke stands O'erlooking the volcanic lands.

Here Ischia smiles O'er liquid miles; And yonder, bluest of the isles, Calm Capri waits,

Her sapphire gates Beguiling to her bright estates.

I heed not, if

My rippling skiff

Float swift or slow from cliff to cliff;-
With dreamful eyes
My spirit lies

Under the walls of Paradise.