Then wake, and tell thy soldier true We meet, O joy! no more to sever. TO A WATERFOWL. WILLIAM C. BRYANT. WHITHER, midst falling dew, While glow the heavens with the last steps of day, Far, through their rosy depths, dost thou pursue Thy solitary way? Vainly the fowler's eye Might mark thy distant flight to do thee wrong, Thy figure floats along. Seek'st thou the plashy brink Of weedy lake, or marge of river wide, There is a Power whose care Teaches thy way along that pathless coast,- Lone wandering, but not lost. Not to ambition yielding false-hearted, Were the true patriots tempted by the spoil : North, South, and West, in phalanx staunch, unbroken, Spurned their false friends and hissed them from the scil. Then rally, &c. When crashing broadsides o'er the waves were booming, When haughty fleets our commerce would dismay, What did our fathers when the lords of ocean Bade them surrender to their sovereign sway? Not basely yielding to the lofty summons Firm linked and true in every coming danger, Year after year along our dazzling banner New stars uprising, swell the clustered flame: Nations benighted hail the constellationBeacon of Freedom on the heights of Fame! Then rally, &c ROCKED IN THE CRADLE OF THE DEEP. MRS. WILLARD. ROCKED in the cradle of the deep, For thou, oh! Lord, hast power to save. And such the trust that still were mine, The germ of immortality; And calm and peaceful is my sleep, Rocked in the cradle of the deep. THE LAST LEAF. BY O. W. HOLMES. I SAW him once before As he passed by the door, And again The pavement stones resound As he totters o'er the ground With his cane. They say that in his prime, Ere the pruning knife of Time Cut him down, Not a better man was found But now he walks the streets, And he looks at all he meets So forlorn; And he shakes his feeble head, That it seems as if he said "They are gone." The mossy marbles rest In their bloom, |