Even then, when from the bower I turned away
Exulting, rich beyond the wealth of kings,
I felt a sense of pain when I beheld
The silent trees and the intruding sky.

Then, dearest Maiden, move along these shades
In gentleness of heart; with gentle hand
Touch-for there is a spirit in the woods.

THAT Cottage, with its walls so white, and gabled root so quaint;
Oh! was it not a chosen thing for artist hands to paint?
With casement windows, where the vine festoon'd the angled panes ;
And trellised porch, where woodbine wove its aromatic chains.
Ah! Memory yet keeps the spot with fond and holy care;

I know the shape of every branch that flung its shadow there;
And 'mid the varied homes I've had-oh! tell me which has vied
With that of merry Childhood by the Green Hill-side?

ELIZA COOK.

THE TWO APRIL MORNINGS.

WE walked along, while bright and red

Uprose the morning sun;

And Matthew stopped, he looked, and said,

"The will of God be done!"

A village schoolmaster was he,
With hair of glittering gray;

As blithe a man as you could see

On a Spring holiday.

And on that morning, through the grass,

And by the streaming rills,

We travelled merrily, to pass

A day among the hills.

"Our work," said I, "was well begun; Then from thy breast what thought, Beneath so beautiful a sun,

So sad a sigh has brought?"

A second time did Matthew stop;
And fixing still his eye
Upon the eastern mountain-top,
To me he made reply:

"Yon cloud with that long purple cleft
Brings fresh into my mind

A day like this, which I have left
Full thirty years behind.

"And just above yon slope of corn
Such colours, and no other,
Were in the sky that April morn,
Of this the very brother.