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A SPRING-DAY WALK.

Whether the hills and vales shall gleam
With beauty, is for us to choose;

For leaf and blossom, rock and stream,
Are coloured with the spirit's hues.

Here, to the seeking soul, is brought
A nobler view of human fate,
And higher feeling, higher thought,
And glimpses of a higher state.

Through change of time, on sea and shore,
Serenely nature smiles away;

Yon infinite blue sky bends o'er
Our world, as at the primal day.

The self-renewing earth is moved
With youthful life each circling year;
And flowers that Ceres' daughter loved
At Enna, now are blooming here.

Glad nature will this truth reveal,

That God is ours and we are His;
O friends, my friends! what joy to feel
That He our loving father is !

CHANSONETTE.

BY CHARLES FENNO HOFFMAN.

SHE loves-but 'tis not me she loves:-
Not me on whom she ponders,
When in some dream of tenderness
Her truant fancy wanders.

The forms that flit her visions through,
Are like the shapes of old,

Where tales of Prince and Paladin

On tapestry are told.

Man may not hope her heart to win,
Be his of common mould!

But I-though spurs are won no more
Where herald's trump is pealing,
Nor thrones carved out for lady fair

Where steel-clad ranks are wheeling―

I loose the falcon of my hopes

Upon as proud a flight

As those who hawked at high renown,

In song-ennobled fight.

If daring then true love may crown,

My love she must requite!

M

ON AN OLD WEDDING RING

BY GEORGE WASHINGTON DOANE.

The device-two hearts united.

The motto "Dear love of mine, my heart is thine."

I LIKE that ring, that ancient ring,
Of massive form, of virgin gold,
As firm, as free from base alloy,

As were the sterling hearts of old.

I like it-for it wafts me back,

Far, far along the stream of time,

To other men, and other days

The men and days of deeds sublime.

But most I like it as it tells

The tale of well requited love;
How youthful fondness persevered,
And youthful faith disdained to rove;
How warmly he his suit preferred,
Though she unpitying, long denied,
Till, softened and subdued, at last

He won his fair and blooming bride;

ON AN OLD WEDDING RING.

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How, till the appointed day arrived,

They blamed the lazy-footed hours; How then the white-robed maiden train

Strewed their glad way with freshest flowers; And how, before the holy man,

They stood in all their youthful pride,

And spoke those words, and vowed those vows
Which bind the husband to his bride.

All this it tells;—the plighted troth,
The gift of every earthly thing,

The hand in hand, the heart in heart

For this I like this ancient ring.

I like its old and quaint device;

Two blended hearts-though time may wear them,

No mortal change, no mortal chance,

"Till death," shall e'er in sunder tear them.

Year after year, 'neath sun and storm,

Their hopes in heaven, and trust in God,

In changeless, heartfelt, holy love,

These two, the world's rough pathways trod.

Age might impair their youthful fires,

Their strength might fail, 'mid life's bleak weather

Still, hand in hand, they travelled on,—

Kind souls! they slumber now together.

112

ON AN OLD WEDDING RING.

I like its simple poesy too;

"Mine own dear love, this heart is thine!" Thine, when the dark storm howls along,

As when the cloudless sunbeams shine. "This heart is thine, mine own dear love!" Thine, and thine only, and forever; Thine, till the springs of life shall failThine, till the chords of life shall sever.

Remnant of days departed long,

Emblem of plighted troth unbroken, Pledge of devoted faithfulness,

Of heartfelt, holy love, the tokenWhat varied feelings round it cling! For these, I like that ancient ring.