Man. Helpless immortal! insect infinite! A worm! a god!-I tremble at myself, M Man---Woman. AN'S home is everywhere. On ocean's flood, Where the strong ship with storm-defying tether Doth link in stormy brotherhood Earth's utmost zones together, Where'er the red gold glows, the spice trees wave, He with bronzed cheek and daring step doth rove; Of the fair moon through his own forests dancing, Were his young hours entrancing; Points out his lot. Or fitful wealth allures to roam, There doth he make his home, It is not thus with Woman. The far halls, Where first her pleased ear drank a nursing mother's tone; The home with humble walls, Where breathed a parent's prayer around her bed; She culled the strawberry, bright with dew; The damp soil where she cast The flower seeds of her hope, and saw them bide the blast, Affection with unfading tint recalls, Where every rose hath in its cup a bee, Making fresh honey of remembered things, Each rose without a thorn, each bee bereft of stings. -Lydia H. Sigourney. Man and Woman. Never can the man divest her S the man beholdst the woman, AS As the woman sees the man, Curiously they note each other, As each other only can. Her virgin bosom swell; Such thoughts to Lucy I will give Here in this happy dell." Thus Nature spake-the work was done― How soon my Lucy's race was run! She died, and left to me This heath, this calm, and quiet scene; -William Wordsworth. L' IKE the violet, which alone My Castara lives unknown, To no ruder eye betrayed; Such is her beauty as no arts Have enriched with borrowed grace; Her high birth no pride imparts, For she blushes in her place. Folly boasts a glorious blood,She is noblest being good. Cautious, she knew never yet What a wanton courtship meant; But 'tween men no difference makes. She obeys with speedy will Her grave parents' wise commands; And so innocent, that ill Castara. She nor acts nor understands. She sails by that rock, the court, Where her fame may anchor cast. Sweetly spends a winter's night. Her pure thoughts to heaven fly; All her vows religious be, And she vows her love to me. -William Habington. BEA Evangeline on the Prairie. EAUTIFUL was the night. Behind the black wall of the forest, Tipping its summit with silver, arose the moon. On the river Fell here and there through the branches a tremulous gleam of the moonlight, Like the sweet thoughts of love on a darkened and devious spirit. Nearer and round about her, the manifold flowers of the garden Poured out their souls in odors, that were their prayers and confessions Unto the night, as it went on its way, like a silent Carthusian. Fuller of fragrance than they, and as heavy with shadows and night dews, Hung the heart of the maiden. The calm and the magical moonlight Seemed to inundate her soul with indefinable longings, As, through the garden gate, and beneath the shade of the oak trees, Passed she along the path to the edge of the measureless prairie. Silent it lay, with a silvery haze upon it, and fire-flies. Art thou so near unto me, and yet I cannot behold thee? Art thou so near unto me, and yet thy voice does not reach me? Ah! how often thy feet have trod this path to the prairie! Ah! how often thine eyes have looked on the woodlands around me! Ah! how often beneath this oak, returning from labor, Thou hast lain down to rest, and to dream of me in thy slumbers. Gleaming and floating away in mingled and infinite numbers, |