Come with me, ladies; cluster
Here on the western pier;
Look at her jewels' lustre,
Changed with the changing year!
First of the months to woo her,
June his strawberries flings
Over her garniture,
Bringing her exquisite things;
Rifling his richest casket;
Handing her, everywhere,
Garnets in crate and basket;
Knowing she soon will wear
Blackberry jet and lava,
Raspberries ruby-red,
Trinkets that August gave her,
Over her toilet spread.
After such gifts have faded,
Then the peaches are seen,
Coral and ivory braided,
Fit for an Indian queen.
And September will send her,
Proud of his wealth, and hold,
Melons glowing in splendor,
Emeralds set with gold.
So she glides to the Narrows,
Where the forts are astir:
Her speed is a shining arrow's!
Guns are silent for her.
So she glides to the ringing
Bells of the belfried town,
Kissing the wharves, and flinging
All of her jewels down.
Whence she gathers her riches,
Ladies, now would you see?
Leaving your city niches,
Wander awhile with me.
THESE hills, the pride of all the coast,
To mighty distance seen,
With aspect bold and rugged brow,
That shade the neighboring main;
These heights, for solitude designed,
This rude, resounding shore,
These vales impervious to the wind,
Tall oaks, that to the tempest bend,
Half Druid, I adore.
From distant lands a thousand sails
Your hazy summits greet,
You saw the angry Briton come,
You saw him, last, retreat!
With towering crest, you first appear
The news of land to tell;
To him that comes, fresh joys impart,
To him that goes, a heavy heart,
The lover's long farewell.
'Tis yours to see the sailor bold,
Of persevering mind,
To see him rove in search of care,
And leave true bliss behind ;
To see him spread his flowing sails
To trace a tiresome road,
By wintry seas and tempests chased,
To see him o'er the ocean haste,
A comfortless abode!
Your thousand springs of waters blue
What luxury to sip,
As from the mountain's breast they flow
To moisten Flora's lip!
In vast retirements herd the deer,
Where forests round them rise,
Dark groves, their tops in ether lost,
That, haunted still by Huddy's ghost,
The trembling rustic flies.
Proud heights! with pain so often seen
(With joy beheld once more),
On your firm base I take my stand,
Tenacious of the shore:
Let those who pant for wealth or fame
Pursue the watery road;
Soft sleep and ease, blest days and nights,
And health, attend these favorite heights,
Retirement's blest abode!
Newark, N. J.
THE DISTANT MART.
THE day is shut; - November's night, On Newark's long and rolling height Falls suddenly and soon; At once the myriad stars disclose; And in the east a glory glows Like that the red horizon shows
But on the western mountain tops
The moon, in new-born beauty, drops
Her pale and slender ring;
Still, like a phantom rising red
O'er haunted valleys of the dead,
I see the distant east dispread
I know by thoughts, which, like the skies,
Grow darker as they slowly rise
Above my burning heart,
It is the light the peasant views,
Through nightly falling frost and dews,
While Fancy paints in brighter hues
Through shadowy hills and meadows brown The calm Passaic reaches down
Where the broad waters lie;
From hillside homes what visions teem!
The fruitless hope, ambitious dream,
Go freighted downward with the stream,
And youths and maids with strange desires O'er quiet homes and village spires
Behold the radiance grow;
They see the lighted casements fine,
The crowded halls of splendor shine,
The gleaming jewels and the wine,
But not the woe!
Take from yon flaunting flame the ray
Which glows on heads untimely gray,
On blasted heart and brain, -
From rooms of death the watcher's lamp,
From homes of toil, from hovels damp,
And dens where Shame and Crime encamp
With Want and Pain:
From vain bazaars and gilded halls,
Where every misnamed pleasure palls,
Remove the chandeliers;
Then mark the scanty, scattered rays,
And think amid that dwindled blaze
How few shall walk their happy ways
And shed no tears!
But now, when fade the fevered gleams,
Some trouble melts away to dreams,
Some pain to sweet repose;
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