NATURE AND HER HARMONIES. 7 



bright showers fell driving the sad, plaining, ill-omened 

 whippoorwill farther away what cared we on summer even- 

 ings? 



" Rigor now is gone to bed 

 Strict Age and sour Severity 

 With their grave saws in slumber lie!" 



Go listen, we may, to the Mocking-Bird down in the val- 

 ley, -on the lone thorn tree singing gleefully singing 

 quaintly singing mournfully now and wildly : 



" And gushing then such a melodie 

 As harp-strings make when a Sprite goes by !" 



Ha ! ha ! what a hotch-potch of minstrelsy he is pouring ! 

 while the stars glint on the green leaves, and they are seem- 

 ing to glint back those silver points earth wise, barbing his 

 bright notes more keenly what a dividing asunder of the 

 joints and marrow the sharp delight of those loud quaver- 

 ings doth bring ? 



Many a time have we kissed the white innocence of an 

 upturned forehead, and felt the light pressure of a " flower- 

 soft hand" return the questioning of our gaze into the " fringed 

 windows" of the soul large, open, dewy, tremulous with ec- 

 stasy beneath that song. 



How could the earth-walking angel fail to think of Heaven 

 when those rare snatches of her natal roundelays went by ? 

 "Would that our kiss might be as pure and our spirit as appre- 

 ciative now of these "better symphonies!" 



The years ! the years ! what changes do they bring ! The 

 heated walls, the din of wheels, the dust and smoke of the 

 great city are around us, and we are toiling wearily with the 

 weary toiling crowd while away by the scented woods this 

 Mocking-Bird our Philomel 



" singing in summer's front ! 



Now when her mournful hymns do hush the night, 

 And that wild music burdens every bough !" 



