THE QUIET TIDE NEAR ARDROSSAN.

IN to the beach the quiet waters crept :

But, though I stood not far within the land,

No tidal murmur reached me from the strand.

The mirrored clouds beneath old Arran slept.

I looked again across the watery waste :

The shores were full, the tide was near its height,

Though scarcely heard: the reefs were drowning fast,

And an imperial whisper told the might

Of the outer floods, that press'd into the bay,
Though all besides was silent. I delight

In the rough billows, and the foam-ball's flight :

I love the shore upon a stormy day;

But yet more stately were the power and ease

That with a whisper deepen'd all the seas.

LETTY'S GLOBE.

HEN Letty had scarce passed her third glad

year,

And her young, artless words began to flow,

One day we gave the child a coloured sphere

Of the wide earth, that she might mark and know,
By tint and outline, all its sea and land.

She patted all the world; old empires peep'd
Between her baby fingers; her soft hand

Was welcome at all frontiers. How she leap'd,
And laugh'd, and prattled in her world-wide bliss;
But when we turned her sweet unlearned eye

On our own isle, she raised a joyous cry,
"Oh! yes, I see it, Letty's home is there!

And, while she hid all England with a kiss,
Bright over Europe fell her golden hair.

THE FOREST GLADE.

S one dark morn I trod a forest glade,

A sunbeam entered at the further end,

And ran to meet me thro' the yielding shade—

As one, who in the distance sees a friend,

And, smiling, hurries to him; but mine eyes,
Bewilder'd by the change from dark to bright,
Received the greeting with a quick surprise
At first, and then with tears of pure delight;

For sad my thoughts had been—the tempest's wrath

Had gloom'd the night, and made the morrow gray;
That heavenly guidance humble sorrow hath,

Had turned my feet into that forest-way,

Just when His morning light came down the path,

Among the lonely woods at early day.

THE GOSSAMER-LIGHT.

UICK gleam! that ridest on the gossamer !
How oft I see thee, with thy wavering lance,
Tilt at the midges in their evening dance,

A gentle joust set on by summer air!

How oft I watch thee from my garden-chair!
And, failing that, I search the lawns and bowers,
To find thee floating o'er the fruits and flowers,
And doing thy sweet work in silence there :
Thou art the poet's darling, ever sought

In the fair garden or the breezy mead;

The wind dismounts thee not; thy buoyant thread

Is as the sonnet, poising one bright thought,
That moves but does not vanish! borne along
Like light, a golden drift through all the song!

IN AND OUT OF THE PINE-WOOD

EYOND the pine-wood all look'd bright and

clear

And, ever by our side, as on we drove,
The star of eve ran glimpsing through the grove,
To meet us in the open atmosphere;

As some fair thought, of heavenly light and force,
Will move and flash behind a transient screen

Of dim expression, glittering in its course

Through many loop-holes, till its face is seen;

Some thoughts ne'er pass beyond their close confines ; Theirs is the little taper's homely lot,

A woodside glimmer, distanced and forgot—

Whose trivial gleam, that twinkles more than shines,

Is left behind to die among the pines;

Our stars are carried out, and vanish not!