144 POEMS, TALES, AND SONGS. There flies o'er the forest a sigh,— A sound as from nature in pain; Invisible hands of the blast Clap loudly as if for a song; The leaves of the trees to the tempest are cast, And scornfully carried along. "How's this?"—saith the storm in its boom"How! trees of the forest and field! Why hail ye not me in your better-day bloom,— The same ye to summer reveal'd ?” "How can we, for cold winter's sake, How can we ?" the woodlands reply; The sere leaves that autumn had left us, you take And cast in the face of the sky!" O, hearts truly cheerful and mild, Win joy in its summer-time form; But wind-sowing spirits—the dark and the wildWhat else should they reap but the storm? HEAVEN FOR HOME. By day and dark, in ever during motion, As on a stream, we pass from birth to death, Nay, it matters not That some of us have by inheritance And walled the wealth up half as high as heaven; That would not purchase immortality, Or buy us an abiding place on earth. Wealth, skill, and might, combined, have wonders done : And as they have performed what once was thought To be impossible, so may they yet Undreamt-of wonders do. In the wild wood, Arm'd with an ugly club, or uncouth spear, Or cavern, or the hollow of a tree, The savage never thought the time would come K When his successors from fair palaces Of wealth, and skill, and might, combined, would send The light'ning on their errands, and command More yet will be,— More than the mind of science has conceived, find A house on earth that time will not take down, Or turn him out of. But a happy home Of everlasting walls is built above, And we are wanted there - even there! heaven! The voice of cheerful morn is heard, Gay hours attend-a sunbright band- Not long!-the hours-no longer gay, But darkly sullen,—disobey; Then trouble comes, and then dismay, A louder voice, in after years, For, in the distance, dimly seen, Again, a glorious voice is heard, And Whence none could wish to roam, That voice inviteth, day by day; THE HARP OF THE BEAUTIFUL. WHEN the young Spring appears, calming the strife again, Of the rude winter realm-region of shadow; When the bright spirit comes, lighting with life again, Eden-ground, river-land, woodland and meadow: Then from the darkness come visions of joy again! Come as the happy come-happy as dutiful! Then doth the aged man feel like a boy again; While the child sings to the Harp of the beautiful. Harp of the beautiful, give to the gale of balm, Heart-moving measures like love's early story; Harp of the beautiful, tell to the vale of calm, Tidings of gladness in music of glory! Let there be joy that the whisper of life is heard, Soft as the breathing south, bringing it nearer; Let there be joy that the bloom, and the song bird, Cheerfully grow to be fairer and clearer! of |