The last line of light now is crossing the sea,

And the first star is lighting its lamp in the sky; It seems that a sweet voice is calling to me,

Like a bird on that pathway of brightness to fly : "Far over the wave is a green sunny isle,

Where the last cloud of evening now shines in the west; 'Tis the island that Spring ever woos with her smiles; O! seek it-the bright happy land of the blest."

RETROSPECTION.

THERE are moments in life, that are never forgot,
Which brighten, and brighten, as time steals away;
They give a new charm to the happiest lot,

And they shine on the gloom of the loneliest day:
These moments are hallowed by smiles and by tears;
The first look of love and the last parting given;
As the sun, in the dawn of his glory, appears,

And the cloud weeps and glows with the rainbow in heaven.

There are hours-there are minutes, which memory brings,
Like blossoms of Eden, to twine round the heart;
And as time rushes by on the might of his wings,
They may darken awhile, but they never depart :
O! these hallowed remembrances cannot decay,
But they come on the soul with a magical thrill;

And in days that are darkest they kindly will stay,

And the heart, in its last throb, will beat with them still.

I

They come, like the dawn in its loveliness, now,
The same look of beauty, that shot to my soul;
The snows of the mountain are bleached on her brow,
And her eyes, in the blue of the firmament, roll:
The roses are dim by her cheeks living bloom,

And her coral lips part like the opening of flowers;
She moves through the air in a cloud of perfume,

Like the wind from the blossoms of jessamine bowers.

From her eye's melting azure there sparkles a flame
That kindled my young blood to ecstacy's glow;
She speaks-and the tones of her voice are the same,
As would once like the wind-harp, in melody flow:
That touch, as her hand meets and mingles with mine,
Shoots along to my heart, with electrical thrill;

'Twas a moment, for earth too supremely divine,
And while life lasts its sweetness shall cling to me still.

We met and we drank from the crystalline well
That flows from the fountain of science above;
On the beauties of thought we would silently dwell,
Till we looked though we never were talking of love :
We parted the tear glistened bright in her eye,

And her melting hand shook, as I dropped it for ever; O! that moment will always be hovering by,

Life may frown-but its light shall abandon me-never.

JOHN G. C. BRAINARD.

TO THE DEAD.

'How many now are dead to me

That live to others yet!

How many are alive to me

Who crumble in their graves, nor see

That sickening, sinking look which we
Till dead can ne'er forget.

Beyond the blue seas, far away,
Most wretchedly alone,

One died in prison, far away,

Where stone on stone shut out the day,

And never hope or comfort's ray

In his lone dungeon shone.

Dead to the world, alive to me;

Though months and years have passed,

In a lone hour, his sigh to me

Comes like the hum of some wild bee,

And then his form and face I see

As when I saw him last.

And one, with a bright lip, and cheek,
And eye, is dead to me.

How pale the bloom of his smooth cheek!
His lip was cold-it would not speak;
His heart was dead, for it did not break;
And his eye, for it did not see.

Then for the living be the tomb,
And for the dead the smile;
Engrave oblivion on the tomb

Of pulseless life and deadly bloom-
Dim is such glare; but bright the gloom
Around the funeral pile.

THE DEEP.

THERE'S beauty in the deep :

The wave is bluer than the sky;

And, though the light shine bright on high,

More softly do the sea-gems glow

That sparkle in the depths below;

The rainbow's tints are only made
When on the waters they are laid,
And sun and moon most sweetly shine
Upon the ocean's level brine.

There's beauty in the deep.

It is not in the surf's rough roar,

Nor in the whispering, shelly shore-
They are but earthly sounds, that tell
How little of the sea-nymph's shell,
That sends its loud, clear note abroad,
Or winds its softness through the flood,
Echoes through groves with coral gay,
And dies, on spongy banks, away.

There's music in the deep.

Above, let tides and tempests rave,

And earth-born whirlwinds wake the wave;
Above, let care and fear contend,
With sin and sorrow to the end:
Here, far beneath the tainted foam,
That frets above our peaceful home,
We dream in joy, and wake in love,
Nor know the rage that yells above.

There's quiet in the deep.