"I'd rather sleep in the ivy wall: No rain comes through, though I hear it fall;

The sun peeps gay at dawn of day, And I sing, and wing away, away!"

"O Birdie, Birdie, will you, pet? Diamond stones and amber and jet We'll string on a necklace fair and fine, To please this pretty bird of mine."

"Oh! thanks for diamonds, and thanks for jet;

But here is something daintier yet,
A feather necklace, round and round,
That I would not sell for a thousand

Stirred above the patent ball,
The wild geese flew,

Nor near so wild as that doth me befall,

Or, swollen Wisdom, you.

In the front there fetched a leader, Him behind the line spread out, And waved about,

As it was near night,

When these air-pilots stop their flight.

Cruising off the shoal dominion
Where we sit,

Depending not on their opinion,
Nor hiving sops of wit;
Geographical in tact,

Naming not a pond or river,

Pulled with twilight down in fact,
In the reeds to quack and quiver,
There they go,

Spectators at the play below,
Southward in a row.

"Let's brush loose for any creek,
There lurk fish and fly,
Condiments to fat the weak,
Inundate the pie.

Flutter not about a place,
Ye concomitants of space!"

Mute the listening nations stand
On that dark receding land;
How faint their villages and towns,
Scattered on the misty downs!
A meeting-house

Appears no bigger than a mouse.

How long?

Never is a question asked,
While a throat can lift the song,
Or a flapping wing be tasked.

All the grandmothers about
Hear the orators of Heaven,
Then put on their woollens stout,
And cower o'er the hearth at even;
And the children stare at the sky,
And laugh to see the long black line
so high!

Then once more I heard them say,"Tis a smooth, delightful road Difficult to lose the way,

And a trifle for a load."

'Twas our forte to pass for this Proper sack of sense to borrow Wings and legs, and bills that clat

ter.

And the horizon of To-morrow.

CHANNING.

That rolled the wild, profound, eternal bass

In nature's anthem, and made musie such

As pleased the ear of God! original, Unmarred, unfaded work of Deity! And unburlesqued by mortal's puny skill;

From age to age enduring, and unchanged,

Majestical, inimitable, vast, Loud uttering satire, day and night, on each

Succeeding race, and little pompous work

Of man; unfallen, religious, holy sea! Thou bowedst thy glorious head to none, fearedst none, Heardst none, to none didst honor, but to God

Thy Maker, only worthy to receive Thy great obeisance.

OCEAN.

POLLOK.

SEE living vales by living waters

blessed,

Their wealth see earth's dark caverns

yield,

See Ocean roll in glory dressed, For all a treasure, and round all a shield.

CHARLES SPRAGUE.

SEA SONG.

OUR boat to the waves go free, By the bending tide, where the curled wave breaks,

Like the track of the wind on the white snowflakes: Away, away! 'Tis a path o'er the sea.

Blasts may rave, spread the sail,

For our spirits can wrest the power

from the wind,

And the gray clouds yield to the - sunny mind,

Fear not we the whirl of the gale.

Waves on the beach, and the wild sea-foam,

With a leap, and a dash, and a sudden cheer,

DEEP in the wave is a coral grove, Where the purple mullet and goldfish rove;

Where the sea-flower spreads its leaves of blue,

That never are wet with falling dew, But in bright and changeful beauty shine

Far down in the green and glassy brine.

The floor is of sand, like the mountain drift,

And the pearl-shells spangle the flinty snow:

From coral rocks the sea-plants lift Their boughs, where the tides and billows flow;

The water is calm and still below,
For the winds and the waves

absent there,

are

And the sands are bright as the stars that glow

In the motionless fields of upper air: There with its waving blade of

green,

The sea-flag streams through the silent water,

And the crimson leaf of the dulse is

seen

To blush like a banner bathed in slaughter:

There with a light and easy motion The fan coral sweeps through the clear deep sea;

And the yellow and scarlet tufts of

ocean

Are bending like corn on the upland lea;

And life, in rare and beautiful forms, Is sporting amid those bowers of

stone,