THE DEW-DROP AND THE STREAM. THE brakes with golden flowers were crowned, When, near the scene, a dew-drop shed And trembling in the breeze it hung! And thus the sparkling pearl addressed : 66 Sure, little drop, rejoice we may, "Ay, you may well rejoice, 'tis true," 66 You will, no doubt, as on you move, I've but refreshed a humble flower." 66 Hold!" cried the stream, "nor thus repine; For well 'tis known a power divine, Subservient to His will supreme, Has made the dew-drop and the stream. All things that are, both great and small, ANON. ELLEN MORE. "SWEET Ellen More," said I, "come forth Beneath the sunny sky; Why stand you musing all alone, With such an anxious eye What is it, child, that aileth you?" "The fields are green, the skies are bright, And 'mong the sweet flowers of the thyme And the lark hath sung since morning prime, Yet not for this shall I go forth "And why?" said I; "what is there here, Beside your cottage door, To make a merry girl like you Thus idly stand to pore? The fair girl looked into my face Silently a while she looked, And, with a half-reluctant will, "Three years ago, unknown to us, That winter was a weary time, For we knew not in what ship he sailed, And day and night the loud, wild winds, Seemed evermore to blow. My mother lay upon her bed, With dismal thoughts of storm and wreck But morn and eve we prayed to Heaven That he might not be lost. And when the pleasant spring came on, He sent a letter full of news Of the wonders he had seen; Praying us to think him dutiful, The tidings that came next were from A sailor old and gray, Who saw his ship at anchor lie In the harbour at Bombay ; But he said my brother pined for home, And wished he were away. Again he wrote a letter long, And soon, and very soon, he said, I watched and watched, but I knew not then It would be all in vain; For very sick he lay the while, In a hospital in Spain. Ah, me! I fear my brother dear And now I watch, for we have heard And the letter said, in very truth, He would be here to-day. Oh! there's no bird that singeth now That self-same eve I wandered down Just as a little boat came in With people to the land; And 'mongst them was a sailor boy, I knew him by his dark-blue eyes, "There's nae place like our ain dear hame To be met wi' onywhere!" MARY HOWITT. EXCELSIOR. THE shades of night were falling fast, Excelsior! His brow was sad; his eye beneath The accents of that unknown tongue, In happy homes he saw the light 66 Try not the Pass!" the old man said; "Dark lowers the tempest overhead, The roaring torrent is deep and wide!" And loud that clarion voice replied, Excelsior! "O stay," the maiden said, "and rest Excelsior! Beware the pine-tree's withered branch! Beware the awful avalanche!" This was the peasant's last Good-night; At break of day, as heavenward A traveller, by the faithful hound, |