THE SETTLER. His echoing axe the settler swung Amid the sea-like solitude, And, rushing, thundering, down were flung The Titans of the wood; Loud shrieked the eagle, as he dashed And the first sunlight, leaping, flashed Rude was the garb, and strong the frame The soul that warmed that frame disdained The paths which wound mid gorgeous trees, A. B. STREET The stream whose bright lips kissed their flowers, The winds that swelled their harmonies Through those sun-hiding bowers, The temple vast, the green arcade, The nestling vale, the grassy glade, Dark cave, and swampy lair: These scenes and sounds majestic, made His roof adorned a pleasant spot, Mid the black logs green glowed the grain, The smoke-wreath curling o'er the dell, Which was the living chronicle Of deeds that wrought the change. The violet sprung at spring's first tinge, The maize hung out its autumn fringe, His garden-spade, or drove his share He marked the fire-storm's blazing flood He marked the rapid whirlwind shoot, With streaming bough and severed root, His gaunt hound yelled, his rifle flashed, The fleet deer ceased its flying bound, The beaver sank beneath the wound Humble the lot, yet his the race, When Liberty sent forth her cry, Who cumbered Bunker's height of red, By hope through weary years were led, A nation's freedom won. THE CORAL GROVE. DEEP in the wave is a coral grove, Where the purple mullet and gold-fish rove; Where the sea-flower spreads its leaves of blue, PERCIVAL. But in bright and changeful beauty shine, Their boughs, where the tides and billows flow; For the winds and waves are absent there, And the sands are bright as the stars that glow There, with its waving blade of green, The sea-flag streams through the silent water, The fan-coral sweeps through the clear, deep sea; Is sporting amid those bowers of stone, And is safe, when the wrathful spirit of storms Where the myriad voices of ocean roar, When the wind-god frowns in the murky skies, Then, far below, in the peaceful sea, The purple mullet and gold-fish rove, Where the waters murmur tranquilly, Through the bending twigs of the coral grove. APOSTROPHE TO THE SUN. CENTRE of light and energy! thy way Is through the unknown void; thou hast thy throne, Morning, and evening, and at noon of day, Far in the blue, untended and alone: Ere the first-wakened airs of earth had blown, On thou didst march, triumphant in thy light; PERCIVAL. Then thou didst send thy glance, which still hath flown Wide through the never-ending worlds of night, And yet thy full orb burns with flash as keen and bright. We call thee Lord of Day, and thou dost give Thy path is high in heaven; we cannot gaze Which bears thy pure divinity afar, One of the sparks of night that fire the air, So thou, too, hast thy path around the central soul. I am no fond idolater to thee, One of the countless multitude, who burn, As lamps, around the one Eternity, In whose contending forces systems turn Their circles round that seat of life, the urn Where all must sleep, if matter ever dies: Sight fails me here, but fancy can discern With the wide glance of her all-seeing eyes, Where, in the heart of worlds, the ruling Spirit lies. "LET THERE BE LIGHT." MRS. F. H. COOKE GOD said, "Let there be light!" The glorious word And hovering choirs of listening angels heard Still, though uncounted years have rolled away Humanity hath often missed the way; "Let there be light! Light for the doomed one in his lonely cell, Light for the poor down-trodden, as they toil Torn from their brethren. On their foreheads write, Light for the injured, whereso'er they dwell, And the sweet ties that suffering hearts unite: Light for the injurers, too, for none may tell How much their hearts have struggled for the Right. Guilt is mistake. Then bid the chorus swell, 66 Let there be light!" ALL'S FOR THE BEST. MARTIN F. TUPPER. ALL'S for the best. Be sanguine and cheerful; All's for the best! set this in your standard, Providence tenderly governs the rest, And the frail bark of His creature is guiding, |