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NIGHT WIND. The night-wind is a minstrel, who for centuries
has sung, And darkness is the temple where his mighty harp
is hung: 'T is strung with rays of starlight, and I love to
hear him sweep Those mystic chords, till Nature chants an anthem in her sleep.
-I Love to Hear the Wind Blow.
ISS MORGAN is a native of Scotland, but re
moved, with her family, in very early life to Canada, so that her whole literary work belongs to the New World. Most of her life has been spent in Milton Cottage on the banks of the St. Lawrence a few miles below Montreal. She has therefore been long known in the educated society of that city as one who can always be relied upon to take an active interest in every scheme for the promo. tion of a higher culture; and Milton Cottage is a favorite resort for people of literary sympathies, especially in the long afternoons of summer, when its garden is brilliantly attractive. It is but twelve or thirteen years ago since Miss Morgan began to publish any of her literary work. Since then her name has become familiar to the readers of various periodicals in the United States as well as in Canada. Her best work is in the lyrical vein; and the moods of the soul, for which she seems to find expression by preference in her lyrics, are not the more boisterous passions by which the average human heart is most commonly stormed, but rather those delicate, calm emotions that are naturally awakened by the rarer reflections of a cultured mind. About a year ago Miss Morgan col. lected a few of her most appreciated productions in a dainty little volume published at Montreal under the title of “Poems and Translations." An edition of this collection for the United States is now being brought out with the more attractive title of “Woodnotes in the Gloaming." Much of her work has been done over the signature of Gowan Lea.
J. C. M.
Upon this earth no more;
My saddened soul would pour
In bitterness and pain, Beseeching still, with deep despair, To meet thee once again.
- The Remembered Name.
Which, rescued from the Egyptian's tomb, When moistened by a gentle shower,
In wondrous beauty still will bloom, We sometimes find a heart t prize, Which, changeless still through grief and
years, Will, like that buried flower, arise, And brighten in the midst of tears.
- The Withered Bud.
To the other it meant no wrong;
-A Memory. JEALOUSY. I have marked the crowns of pleasure
By your silly vot'ries worn, And have grafted at my leisure
Upon every rose a thorn. 'Human hearts must sweep between us, . Bearing off their passion-scars. Love's bright heritage from Venus Brings the curse of strife from Mars!
-Love and Jealousy. CHILDHOOD. The earth was green, the sky was fair, And life to them was then and there; Their future in “to-morrow" lay, Their past was lost in “yesterday."
TO THE NEW YEAR.
Hark! is 't thy step, New Year? With sure but stealthy pace thou aye dost come; And in thy train are gladdening gifts for some;
O haste thee, glad New Year!
Too swift thy step, New Year! The past had gathered friends from many lands, And thou dost come to part their clasped hands:
Alas, so soon, New Year!
“O haste!” " Delay!" New Year;Two prayers together rising up to heaven: The answer trust; for is it not God-given?
Meet bravely the New Year!
Bid welcome the New Year! O clear-voiced Truth, lead in the coming morn; And gentle Charity, our lives adorn:
Hope lives in the New Year!
(For Music.) Be strong, O soul! The morning breaketh fair; All blue the sky-no cloudlet anywhere; Yet think,—thy path is infinite and there
Thou walkest all alone: O soul, be strong! Be strong, O soul! It is the full noon-day; But thorns and briars have sprung up on thy way; Take heed unto thy steps, that so thou may
Not faint nor fall: do thou beware, O soul! Be strong, O soul! The night comes on apace,
he crescent moon hath hid her pensive face, Nor canst thou on the darkening heavens trace
One lonely star: now, now be strong, O soul! Be calm, O soul! Dream not the night can last: If memory hath linked thee to the past, So, to the future, Hope hath bound thee fast:
Be thou as calm as strong, O anxious soul!
Alone with the sea —
In her moan my soul's own lay,
- Ibid. GEORGE ELIOT. Thyself, a shining light thou knew'st the shade;
But, from the silence of the soul's recess,
The lamp of thy great genius shone afar: The weary worker in his loneliness
Descried the ray, and dreamed it could not fade To him thou art as an immortal star!
Myself to thee when busy day is done,
And twilight shadows gather thick below;
Am I made visible in noon's pure glow:
- Time. IDEALS.
Another, as with warning, answers low:
Full often severing the olden tie.
Outstrips the lesser soul of progress slow;
Whom only rarest friendship can defy.
The turning-point will oft elude the mind,
Which some day wonders how the coldness grew. Behold yon rainbow through the glistening rain!
Canst thou the limit of one color find?
The highest work a higher thought can raise.
- ldcals. CARLYLE. O mighty heart! like to the changing sea
To fury lashed, and back with sudden awe
Subsiding (as if Eolus set free
To thee -as once upon the Mount- -a law
- On the Death of Carlyle.
Thou asketh not to know the creed,
When our too slothful minds shall feel the sun
Celestial melodies entrance the soul,
Truth is one, and is forever true.
- Poem. HOPE, Wonder not at deed, Wonder more at thought, Wonder at the hope that feeds itself.
WILLIAM H. BUSHNELL.
A rapture that doth hint of height on height A vast“ beyond "- an infinite foreground, Warmed by the rays of an undying sun.
- Meditations from “ Dream-Grotto."
HIS veteran author was born in the city of
June 4, 1823, of good old stock, New England and Knickerbocker; was educated at the University of the City of New York; followed for a time the profession of his father, the law, and after much journalistic experience as editor and contributor, finally settled in Washington where he now resides.
In person Mr. Bushnell is of medium height, blue-eyed, of scholarly sedateness, and unaffected affability. In the suavity of the man and his freedom from ostentation, and in his perfect repose you have the evidence of that high result of manhood, a gentleman.
It is proper to add that the poet has for a wife one of the most brilliant conversationalists in the Capital, and whose nom de plume, “Helen Luqueer," is well known to the literary world. Their charming home and united literary life is a reminder of ihe Howitts and the Brownings. J. W. O.
Red grows the sky with wealth of light suffused-
Life conscious is, and there's no rest at all.
- Ibid. WONDER
WHERE the rustic porch was hidden by roses, red
and white, And honeysuckle laden with wealth of blossoms
bright, And the brier gave its sweetness at the dewy even
ing hour, And the violet its perfume to the kissing of the
shower; Where bird and insect singing from the cherry
laden tree, Were answered from the clover fields by humming
of the bee: Where dozing in the shadow the faithful watch-dog
laid, And flashing through the scented grass the tiny
kittens played; And where life's chain unbroken by loved ones
forced to roam, Shone bright, undim'd by sorrows in the heart's
O Reason, Wonder, Doubt
Great warriors three!
-- Hymn. LIFE.
Enchantress, Disenchantress, both - in one!
Surrounding us to-day with dazzling light,
To-morrow hiding every ray of sun Till we are sunk in the abyss of night.
The oracles are dumb: what'er Life be, Man walks by faith alone; he cannot see.
MARGUERITE. Hair as silk of corn sun-kissed, Rippling in a golden mist; Skin as calla lily white, Tinted by rose-blushes bright; Lips as if from heaven above Thou had stolen dew of love; Cheeks as angel's fair and sweet,