THE LANDING OF THE PRIMROSE.

From English earth transported,

A little lowly flower.

Be blessings on that lady,

Be blessings on that hand; The first to plant the Primrose Upon the Exile's land!

The sound had gone before her,
No eye had closed that night;
So yearned they for the morrow,
So longed they for the light.

She smiles while tears are dropping, She holds the treasure high;

And land and sea resounding,

Ring out with one wild cry.

And sobs at its subsiding

From manly breasts are heard; Stern natures, hearts guilt-hardened, To woman's softness stirred.

One gazes all intentness,

That felon-Boy—and lo! The bold bright eyes are glistening, Long, long, unmoistened so.

The woman holds her child up: "Look, little one!" cries she, "I pulled such when as blithesome And innocent as thee!"

No word the old man utters,-
His earnest eyes grow dim;
One spot beyond the salt sea
Is present now to him.

THE LANDING OF THE PRIMROSE.

There blooms the earliest primrose,

His father's grave hard by; There lieth all his kindred,

There he shall never lie.

The living mass moves onward,
The Lady and her train;
They press upon her path still,
To look and look again.

Yet on she moves securely,
No guards are needed there;
Of her they hem so closely

They would not harm a hair.

Be blessings on that Lady!

Be blessings on that hand,

The first to plant the Primrose
Upon the Exile's land.

Caroline Southey.

RIVER! River! rapid River,

Swifter now you slip away;

Swift and silent as an arrow,

Through a channel dark and narrow,
Like life's closing day.

River! River! headlong River,

Down you dash into the sea ;

Sea, that line hath never sounded,

Sea, that voyage hath never rounded,
Like Eternity.

Same.

I MARK'D when vernal meads were bright,
And many a primrose smil'd,

I mark'd her, blithe as morning light,
A dimpled three years' child.

BEREAVEMENT.

A basket on one tender arm

Contain'd her precious store

Of spring-flowers in their freshest charm, Told proudly o'er and o'er.

The other wound with earnest hold

About her blooming guide,

A maid who scarce twelve years had told: So walk'd they side by side.

One a bright bud, and one might seem

A sister flower half-blown.

Full joyous on their loving dream
The sky of April shone.

The summer months swept by: again
That loving pair I met.

On russet heath, and bowery lane,
Th' Autumnal sun had set!

And chill and damp that Sunday eve
Breath'd on the mourners' road,
That bright-eyed little one to leave
Safe in the Saints' abode.

Behind, the guardian sister came,
Her bright brow dim and pale—
O cheer thee, maiden! in His Name,
Who still'd Jairus' wail!

Thou mourn'st to miss the fingers soft

That held by thine so fast,

The fond appealing eye, full oft

Tow'rd thee for refuge cast.

Sweet toils, sweet cares, for ever gone! No more from stranger's face,

Or startling sound, the timid one

Shall hide in thine embrace.

BEREAVEMENT.

The first glad earthly task is o'er,
And dreary seems thy way.
But what if nearer than before
She watch thee even to-day?

What if henceforth by Heaven's decree
She leave thee not alone,

But in her turn prove guide to thee
In ways to Angels known?

O yield thee to her whisperings sweet:
Away with thoughts of gloom!
In love the loving spirits greet

Who wait to bless her tomb.

In loving hope with her unseen,

Walk as in hallow'd air.

When foes are strong and trials keen,

Think, "What if she be there?"

John Keble.

A FRAGMENT of a rainbow bright
Through the moist air I see,
All dark and damp on yonder height,
All clear and gay to me.

An hour ago the storm was here,
The gleam was far behind,
So will our joys and griefs appear
When earth has ceased to blind.

Grief will be joy, if on its edge
Fall soft that holiest ray:
Joy will be grief, if no faint pledge
Be there of heavenly day.

Same.