Imágenes de páginas
PDF
EPUB

How delicate thy gauzy frill!

How rich thy branchy stem!

How soft thy voice when woods are still,
And thou sing'st hymns to them,
While silent showers are falling slow,

And 'mid the general hush

A sweet air lifts the little bough,
Lone whispering through the bush!

The primrose to the grave is gone;
The hawthorn flower is dead;
The violet by the mossed gray stone

weary head

;

Hath laid her
But thou, wild bramble, back dost bring

In all their beauteous power

The fresh green days of life's fair spring,
And boyhood's blossom hour.

Scorned bramble of the brake! once more
Thou biddest me be a boy,

To gad with thee the woodlands o'er,

In freedom and in joy.

-

· Ebenezer Elliott.

JACK IN THE PULPIT.

JACK in the pulpit

Preaches to-day,

Under the green trees

Just over the way.

Squirrel and song-sparrow
High on their perch,
Hear the sweet lily-bells

Ringing to church.

[merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][ocr errors][merged small][merged small][ocr errors][merged small][merged small]

Buttercups' faces

Beaming and bright; Clovers, with bonnets

Some red and some white; Daisies, their white fingers

Half-clasped in prayer; Dandelions, proud of

The gold of their hair; Innocents, children

Guileless and frail, Meek little faces

Upturned and pale ; Wild-wood geraniums, All in their best, Languidly leaning

In purple gauze dressed: All are assembled

This sweet Sabbath-day To hear what the priest In his pulpit will say.

Look! white Indian pipes
On the green mosses lie!
Who has been smoking
Profanely so nigh?
Rebuked by the preacher

The mischief is stopped,
But the sinners, in haste,

Have their little pipes dropped
Let the wind with the fragrance
Of fern and black birch,
Blow the smell of the smoking
Clean out of our church!

So much for the preacher :

The sermon comes next,

Shall we tell how he preached it,

And where was his text?
Alas! like too many

Grown up folks who play
At worship in churches
Man-builded to-day,-
We heard not the preacher
Expound or discuss ;
But we looked at the people,
And they looked at us.
We saw all their dresses,
Their colors and shapes ;
The trim of their bonnets,
The cut of their capes.
We heard the wind-organ,
The bee and the bird,
But of Jack in the Pulpit

We heard not a word!

[ocr errors][merged small][merged small]

Down in a green and shady bed
A modest violet grew ;

Its stalk was bent, it hung its head,
As if to hide from view.

And yet it was a lovely flower,
Its colors bright and fair!
It might have graced a rosy bower,
Instead of hiding there.

Yet there it was content to bloom,
In modest tints arrayed;

And there diffused its sweet perfume,
Within the silent shade.

[merged small][merged small][ocr errors][graphic]
« AnteriorContinuar »