A FAREWELL TO CONNECTICUT.

TURNED a last look to my dear native mountain,

As the dim blush of sunset grew pale in the sky; All was still, save the music that leaped from the fountain, And the wave of the woods to the summer-wind's

sigh.

Far around, the gray mist of the twilight was stealing, And the tints of the landscape had faded in blue, Ere my pale lip could murmur the accents of feeling, As it bade the fond scenes of my childhood adieu.

Oh! mock not that pang, for my heart was retracing
Past visions of happiness, sparkling and clear:
My heart was still warm with a mother's embracing,
My cheek was still wet with a fond sister's tear.

Like an infant's first sleep on the lap of its mother, Were the days of my childhood-those days are no

more;

And my sorrow's deep throb I had struggled to smother Was that infant's wild cry when it's first sleep was

o'er.

Years have gone by, and remembrance now covers,

With the tinge of the moonbeam, the thoughts of

that hour;

Yet still in his day-dream the wanderer hovers

Round the cottage he left and its green woven bower.

And Hope lingers near him, her wildest song breathing, And points to a future day, distant and dim,

When the finger of sunset, its eglantine weaving, Shall brighten the home of his childhood for him.

TO LOUIS GAYLORD CLARK, ESQ.

'VE greeted many a bonny bride

On many a bridal day,

In homes serene and summer-skied,

Where Love's spring-buds, with joy and pride
Had blossomed into May;

But ne'er on lovelier bride than thine
Looked these delighted eyes of mine,

And ne'er in happier bridal bower
Than hers, smiled rose and orange-flower
Through green leaves glad and gay,
When bridesmaids, grouped around her room,
In youth's, in truth's, in beauty's bloom,
Entwined, with merry fingers fair,
Their garlands in her sunny hair;
Or bosomed them, with graceful art,
Above the beatings of her heart.

I well remember, as I stood,
Among that pleasant multitude,
A stranger, mateless and forlorn,
Pledged bachelor and hermit sworn,
That, when the holy voice had given,

In consecrated words of power,

The sanction of approving Heaven

To marriage-ring, and roof, and dower;
When she, a Wife, in matron pride,
Stood, life-devoted, at thy side;

When happy lips had pressed her cheek,
And happiest lips her "bonny mou',"
And she had smiled with blushes meek,
On my congratulating bow,

A sunbeam, balmy with delight,
Entranced, subdued me, till I quite
Forget my anti-nuptial vow,

And almost asked, with serious brow
And voice of true and earnest tone,
The bridesmaid with the prettiest face
To take me, heart and hand, and grace
A wedding of my own.

Time's years, it suits me not to say
How many, since that joyous day,

Have watched and cheered thee on thy way

O'er Duty's chosen path severe,

And seen thee, heart and thought full grown,
Tread manhood's thorns and tempters down,
And win, like Pythian charioteer,

The wreaths and race-cups of renown—
Seen thee, thy name and deeds, enshrined
Within the peerage-book of mind—
And seen my morning prophecy
Truth-blazoned on a noonday sky,

TO LOUIS GAYLORD CLARK.

That he, whose worth could win a wife
Lovely as thine, at life's beginning,
Would always wield the power, through life,
Of winning all things worth the winning.

Hark! there are songs on Summer's breeze,
And dance and song in Summer's trees,
And choruses of birds and bees

In Air, their world of happy wings;
What far-off minstrelsy, whose tone
And words are sweeter than their own,
Has waked these cordial welcomings?
'Tis nearer now, and now more near,
And now rings out like clarion clear.
They come the merry bells of Fame!
They come to glad me with thy name,
And borne upon their music's sca,
From wave to wave melodiously,
Glad tidings bring of thine and thee.

They tell me that, Life's tasks well done,
Ere shadows mark thy westering sun,

Thy Bark has reached a quiet shore,
And rests, with slumbering sail and oar,
Fast anchored near a cottage door,

Thy home of pleasantness and peace,

Of Love, with eyes of Heaven's blue,
And Health, with cheek of rose's hue,

And Riches, with "the Golden Fleece: "

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