And for myself, indeed, I care not if I go to-day, XII. And say to Robin a kind word, and tell him not to fret; XIII. O look! the sun begins to rise, the heavens are in a glow; XIV. O sweet and strange it seems to me, that ere this day is done And what is life that we should moan? why make we such ado? XV. For ever and forever, all in a blessed home And there to wait a little while till you and Effie come To lie within the light of God, as I lie upon your breast And the wicked cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest. THE SKELETON IN ARMOR.-LONGFELLOW. This poem was suggested by the Round Tower at Newport, now claimed by the Danes, as a work of their ancestors. "Speak! speak! thou fearful guest! Who, with thy hollow breast Why dost thou haunt me?" Then, from those cavernous eyes And, like the water's flow From the heart's chamber. "I was a Viking old! "Far in the Northern Land, And, with my skates fast-bound, "Oft to his frozen lair Track'd I the grizzly bear, Sang from the meadow. "But when I older grew, "Many a wassail-bout "Once as I told in glee Tales of the stormy sea, And as the white stars shine Fell their soft splendor. "I woo'd the blue-eyed maid, Bright in her father's hall When of old Hildebrand "While the brown ale he quaff'd "And as to catch the gale "As with his wings aslant, "Three weeks we westward bore, "There lived we many years; She was a mother; Death closed her mild blue eyes, Ne'er shall the sun arise "Still grew my bosom then, O, death was grateful! 66 Thus, seam'd with many scars Bursting these prison bars, Up to its native stars My soul ascended! There from the flowing bowl Deep drinks the warrior's soul, Skoal! to the Northland! skoal!" -Thus the tale ended. VOICES OF GREENWOOD.-J. W. S. Hows. GREENWOOD has its voices-eloquent ones, intelligible to our common humanity for they speak the universal language "that makes mankind akin." Their teachings too are beautiful and impressive. How suggestive of pure taste are the tongues that speak in her embowering trees, her winding glades, her sunny slopes, her mimic lakes, her sinuously arranged and picturesque walks. These are all books exquisitely illustrated, where the finishing touches have been delicately laid in by the Great Artist of the Universe! And then what sermons ever preached by stones can equal the expressive and solemn truths conveyed by the memorials reared by affection and respect, to snatch from forgetfulness the remembrance of those who were once the objects of reverence or of love? Yes, Greenwood has its voices! At all times and in all seasons every step within its hallowed precincts is vocal with the sounds of those eloquent and instructive monitors. The revivifying breath of spring is freighted with their utterings; the soft south winds of summer are laden with their genial teachings; the hollow murmurings of the autumnal breeze sigh forth their solemn warnings; and the winter's blast echoes with symbolical expression the truths these voices are made to utter. From "morn till dewy eve," in the broad glare of the meridian sunlight, and under the mellow radiance of the moon, may be heard their whisperings, by all whose hearts are attuned to the reception of genial influences and holy imaginations. Can we Are these voices as palpable to feeling as to sound? arrest them in their airy flights; and, giving to them the tangible form of type, can we transfer them to our firesides, or carry them with us to the bustling mart, and the sequestered haunt, or make them the companions of our wayfaring excursions? The experiment is worth the trial, albeit we may fail fully to translate their meaning, and may not succeed in rendering their eloquent and impressive lessons with equal force and expression as when they are heard in their own appropriate temple. Yet to the single-hearted and the sincere, who go forth to Greenwood "to list to nature's teachings" with simplicity of purpose and obedience of spirit, even our imperfect jottings may be expanded into finished volumes; and for the lighthearted and the unreflective we may perchance recall many a |