What saith the Streamlet,

Flowing so bright,

Clear as a beamlet

Of heavenly light?

"Morning and evening still floating along,
Upward for ever ascendeth my song;
Be thou contented whate'er may befall,
Cheerful in knowing that God is o'er all."

What saith the River,

Majestic in flow,
Moving for ever

Calmly and slow?

"Over my surface the great vessels glide,
Ocean-ward borne by my strong heaving tide;
Work thou too, brother, life vanisheth fast,
Labour unceasing, rest cometh at last!"

What saith the Ocean,
Boundless as night;
Tumultuous in motion,

Resistless in might?

"Fountain to streamlet, streamlet to river, All in my bosom commingle for ever; Morning to noontide, and noontide to night, Soon will Eternity veil thee from sight.”

WILLIAM W. CALDWELL, 1823

-American.

How their leaves instruction yield!
Hark to Nature's lesson given

By the blessed birds of heaven!
Every bush and tufted tree

Warbles sweet philosophy:

"Mortal, fly from doubt and sorrow!
God provideth for the morrow!

"Say, with richer crimson glows
The kingly mantle than the rose?
Say, have kings more wholesome fare
Than we, poor citizens of air?
Barns nor hoarded grain have we,
Yet we carol merrily.

Mortal, fly from doubt and sorrow!
God provideth for the morrow!

"One there lives whose guardian eye
Guides our humble destiny;

One there lives, who, Lord of all,
Keeps our feathers lest they fall:
Pass we blithely, then, the time,
Fearless of the snare and lime,

Free from doubt and faithless sorrow

God provideth for the morrow!"

BISHOP HEBER, 1783-1826.

THE COMPLAINTS OF THE POOR.

AND wherefore do the Poor complain? The Rich Man ask'd of me ;Come, walk abroad with me, I said, And I will answer thee.

'Twas evening, and the frozen streets
Were cheerless to behold,

And we were wrapt and coated well,
And yet we were a-cold.

We met an old bare-headed man,
His locks were thin and white;

I ask'd him what he did abroad
In that cold winter's night;

The cold was keen indeed, he said,
But at home no fire had he,
And therefore he had come abroad
To ask for charity.

We met a young bare-footed child,
And she begg'd loud and bold;
I ask'd her what she did abroad.
When the wind it blew so cold;

She said her father was at home,

And he lay sick a-bed,

And therefore was it she was sent

Abroad to beg for bread.

We saw a woman sitting down
Upon a stone to rest,

She had a baby at her back
And another at her breast;

I ask'd her why she loiter'd there
When the night-wind was so chill;
She turn'd her head, and bade the child
That scream'd behind, be still;

Then told us that her husband served,

A soldier, far away,

And therefore to her parish she
Was begging back her way.

We met a girl, her dress was loose
And sunken was her eye,
Who with a wanton's hollow voice
Address'd the passers-by.

I ask'd her what there was in guilt
That could her heart allure

To shame, disease, and late remorse ;
She answer'd she was poor.

I turn'd me to the Rich Man then,

For silently stood he,

You ask'd me why the poor complain,

And these haye answer'd thee.

ROBERT SOUTHEY, 1774-1843

THE LABOURER.

STAND up erect! Thou hast the form
And likeness of thy God!-who more?
A soul as dauntless 'mid the storm
Of daily life, a heart as warm
And pure as breast e'er wore.

What then?-Thou art as true a MAN
As moves the human mass among;
As much a part of the great plan
That with creation's dawn began,
As any of the throng.

Who is thine enemy?—the high

In station, or in wealth the chief? The great, who coldly pass thee by, With proud step, and averted eye?

Nay! nurse not such belief.