« ForrigeFortsett »
While memory bids me weep thee,
Nor thoughts nor words are free,
That mourns a man like thee.
THE PETRIFIED FERN.
In a valley, centuries ago,
Grew a little fern-leaf, green and slender,
Veining delicate and fibres tender ;
Monster fishes swam the silent main,
Stately forests waved their giant branches,
Mountains hurled their snowy avalanches,
Earth, one time, put on a frolic mood,
Heaved the rocks and changed the mighty motion
Of the deep, strong currents of the ocean; Moved the plain and shook the haughty wood,
Crushed the little fern in soft moist clay,
Useless ! Lost! There came a thoughtful man
Searching Nature's secrets, far and deep ;
From a fissure in a rocky steep
MARY Bolles BRANCH.
The shadows lay along Broadway,
'Twas near the twilight-tide,
Was walking in her pride.
Walked spirits at her side.
Peace charmed the street beneath her feet,
And Honor charmed the air ;
And called her good as fair,-
She kept with chary care.
She kept with care her beauties rare
From lovers warm and true,
And the rich came not to woo,-
If priests the selling do.
Now walking there was one more fair,
A slight girl, lily-pale ;
To make the spirit quail, 'Twixt Want and Scorn she walked forlorn,
And nothing could avail.
No mercy now can clear her brow
For this world's peace to pray;
Her woman's heart gave way!
By man is cursed alway!
NATHANIEL PARKER WILLIS.
A MUSICAL INSTRUMENT.
WHAT was he doing, the great god Pan,
Down in the reeds by the river ? Spreading ruin and scattering ban, Splashing and paddling with hoofs of a goat, And breaking the golden lilies afloat
With the dragon-fly on the river.
He tore out a reed, the great god Pan,
From the deep cool bed of the river :
Ere he brought it out of the river,