Low o'er the grass the swallow wings; SONG. SIR EDWAR DYER. My mind to me a kingdom is; That God or nature hath assign'd; Though much I want that most would have, Yet still my mind forbids to crave. Content I live, this is my stay; I seek no more than may suffice; My wealth is health and perfect ease, Nor by desert, to give offence. THE SUNLIGHT. ANON. BLESSED is the Sunlight! giving joy unto the child Where the banks are waving thick, with grasses fresh sweet, And the daisy noddeth at his little feet. Blessed is the Sunlight to the eyes of weary age, Blessed is the Sunlight! for it rests on rich and poor; MOONLIGHT. W. H. B. SILENT tears pale night is weeping Earth with dewy splendour glows. With the night wind's gentle sigh; At this sweet hour a chastening spell, Fond memory will the bosom swell That glitters in the west, Serenely beaming from afar— Their hallow'd place of rest. STANZAS. PRINCESS AMELIA. UNTHINKING, idle, wild, and young, I laugh'd, and danc'd, and talk'd, and sung; But when the hour of trial came, 'Tis sweet, when delight has been sober'd by age, To glance on its mirrors again, To glide o'er the clouds of adversity's page They seem not so desolate then. As the tempest brings calm; as the hoar-frost the spring; So the sun and the shade of vicissitude fling A beautiful light on our way; And passion and rapture, when temper'd by thought, No trace but of happiness leave; E'en grief when remember'd, is tranquilly taught How vain-how ungrateful-to grieve. Life's briers and roses-its gladness and gloom,— The flow'rets we pluck, and condense their perfume, Like the bee, thoughts fly o'er the fields of the past, Finding sweets wheresoever they roam: They wander through sunshine and storm, and at last Store nought but their honey at home. TO A LITTLE GIRL. DR. COTTON. FAIREST flower, all flowers excelling, Mark, my Anna, how the roses Lilies are by plain direction Emblems of a double kind; But, dear girl, both flowers and beauty THE WINTER ROBIN. CHARLOTTE SMITH. A SUPPLIANT to your window comes, For cold and cheerless is the day, No fears his slender feet deter; COMPASSION AND FORGIVENESS. SCOTT. I HEAR the voice of woe; A brother mortal mourns; I hear the thirsty cry; The famish'd beg for bread: And shall not wrath relent, My brother crying, "I repent, How else, on sprightly wing, Can hope bear high my pray'r, Up to thy throne, my God, my king, |