The earliest lesson taught at school)
One only now are you.

One as with fondness you embrace,
Ere from the church you go,
E'en as their tendrils interlace,
When vines together grow.

One as the virtues you pursue,
Of honor, truth, and love,
If either change, again be two,
And faithful to reprove.

One faith, one hope, one joy, one love,

Through all the future show,

One in the register above,

One too in that below.

May, 1860.

PRAISE FOR SPRING.

For the bursting seed and flower,
For the increase of the fold,
For the sunshine and the shower

Be Thy name O Lord extolled.

For the herb for man and beast,

In the garden and the field,
For the greatest and the least,
Thanks to thee O Lord we yield.

For the rain drops which distil,
And like music fall around,
And renew the mountain rill,
And refresh the thirsty ground.

For the gladness of the groves,
For the plenty of the vales,
Man to praise Thee it behoves,
For Thy mercy never fails.

For the harvest wealth in store,
Underneath the broken clod,

Praise from grateful hearts we pour,
Unto Thee our gracious God.

For the corn as yet in blade,
For the fruit as yet in bud,

Be our hearts' best homage paid,
O Thou gracious, wise, and good.

May 8, 1860.

TO A LITTLE BOY.

What carest thou for time and space,
My little fellow, or for fate;

Although the letters thou canst trace,
Which make the words upon thy slate.

What carest thou for abstract things,
For Nature and for Nature's plan,
Thou knowest that the birds have wings,
And fishes fins, my little man.

Horses and oxen thou hast seen,
And other living creatures too;
Thou knowest that the field is green,
Thou knowest that the sky is blue.

The land, the sea, the sky above,

The fields, the flowers, the herbs, the trees, Thou lookest on them all in love,

All, all thy youthful fancy please.

And these will lead thee up in time,

To truths which now thou canst not see,

Profound, mysterious, and sublime,

Time, space, and immortality.

May 9, 1860.

TO A DAISY.

I love you best, you pretty flower,
Though gayer ones around you show,
As dipping with the April shower,
Amongst the bright green grass you grow.

Or, opening to the morning's rays,

Or closing to the evening's dews, Your beauty, daisy, I will praise,

And from your gayer rivals choose.

You tempt me not, you rather shun,
The eye which seeks the early flower,
Who give your beauty to the sun,

And fold your leaves at evening's hour.

I love the simple, modest guise,

In which you show within the field, The light reflecting of the skies,

Or with the silver dew-drops sealed.

The stars which show in yonder sky
When midnight wraps the glittering pale,
Are not more pleasing to my eye,

Within their orbits as they roll.

Secure upon your stem you are,

Until your leaves the earth shall strew,
Secure and stedfast as the star,

Which shines in yonder vault of blue.

May 9, 1860.

TO GARIBALDI ON HIS EXPEDITION INTO

SICILY.

Go, lion-hearted go,

The fingers which unsheathe

Thy glittering weapon, now

Shall grasp the conqueror's wreath.

Go, lion-hearted, go,

Although the waters rave,

Through them thy ship shall plough,
Like sea-bird through the wave.

Go, lion-hearted, go,

The tyrant's cheek grows pale;
Well doth the craven know,

Thou never yet didst fail.