Imatges de pÓgina

And woods were brightened, and soft gales

Went forth to kiss the sun-clad vales.
The clouds were far beneath me: bathed in light,
They gathered midway round the wooded height,

And in their fading glory shone

Like hosts in battle overthrown, As many a pinnacle, with shifting glance, Through the gray mist thrust up its shattered lance,

And rocking on the cliff was left

The dark pine, blasted, bare, and cleft. The veil of cloud was lifted ; and below Glowed the rich valley, and the river's flow

Was darkened by the forest's shade,

Or glistened in the white cascade,
Where upward, in the mellow blush of day,
The noisy bittern wheeled his spiral way.

I heard the distant waters dash;

I saw the current whirl and flash;
And richly by the blue lake's silver beach
The woods were bending with a silent reach.

Then o'er the vale, with gentle swell,

The music of the village bell Came sweetly to the echo-giving hills ; And the wild horn, whose voice the woodland fills,

Was ringing to the merry shout

That, faint and far, the glen sent out, Where, answering to the sudden shot, thin smoke Through thick-leaved branches from the dingle broke.

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If thou art worn and hard beset

With sorrows that thou wouldst forget,
If thou wouldst read a lesson that will keep
Thy heart from fainting, and thy soul from sleep,

Go to the woods and hills ! no tears
Dim the sweet look that Nature wears.



S:- gas, mass, close, griefs, lamps, mouths, verse, dupes,

scene, soil, psalm, soul.

The Spirit of Beauty. Dawes.
The Spirit of Beauty unfurls her light,
And wheels her course in a joyous flight:
I know her track through the balmy air,
By the blossoms that cluster and whiten there.
She leaves the tops of the mountains green,
And gems the valley with crystal sheen.

At morn, I know where she rested at night,
For the roses are gushing with dewy delight.
Then she mounts again, and around her flings
A shower of light from her purple wings,
Till the spirit is drunk with the music on high,
That silently fills it with ecstasy!

At noon, she hies to a cool retreat,
Where bowering elms over waters meet;
She dimples the wave, where the green leaves dip,
That smiles, as it curls, like a maiden's lip,
When her tremulous bosom would hide, in vain,
From her lover, the hope that she loves again.

At eve, she hangs, o'er the western sky
Dark clouds for a glorious canopy ;
And round the skirts of each sweeping fold,
She paints a border of crimson and gold,
Where the lingering sunbeams love to stay,
When their god in his glory has passed away.

She hovers around us at twilight hour,
When her presence is felt with the deepest power.
She mellows the landscape, and crowds the stream
With shadows that flit like a fairy dream :
Still wheeling her flight through the gladsome air,
The Spirit of Beauty is every where!




ARTICULATION. sh:- shall, shrove, shrink, sash, marsh, shrub, shrine, shone,

show, shun.

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The Frost looked forth one still, clear night,
And whispered, “Now I shall be out of sight;
So, through the valley, and over the height,

In silence I'll take my way.
I will not go on like that blustering train,
The wind and the snow, the hail and the rain,-
Who make so much bustle and noise in vain;

But I'll be as busy as they."

Then he flew to the mountain, and powdered its crest;
He lit on the trees, and their boughs he dressed
In diamond beads; and over the breast

Of the quivering lake he spread
A coat of mail, that it need not fear
The downward point of many a spear,
That he hung on its margin, far and near,

Where a rock could rear its head.

He went to the windows of those who slept,
And over each pane, like a fairy, crept;
Wherever he breathed, wherever he stepped,

By the light of the moon, were seen
Most beautiful things; there were flowers and trees ;
There were bevies of birds, and swarms of bees;
There were cities, with temples and towers; and these

All pictured in silver sheen.

But he did one thing that was hardly fair,
He peeped in the cupboard, and finding there
That all had forgotten for him to prepare,

“Now, just to set them a-thinking,
I'll bite this basket of fruit,” said he,
“This costly pitcher I'll burst in three;
And the glass of water they've left for me

Shall tchick'! to tell them I'm drinking."



IN ARTICULATION. t:-taught, time, kite, dust, halt, tight, trash, debt, matter

better, fetter, brittle.

A Winter Morning. Andrews Norton.

The keen, clear air -- the splendid sight

We waken to a world of ice;
Where all things are enshrined in light,

As by some genii's quaint device.

'Tis winter's jubilee: this day

His stores their countless treasures yield:

See how the diamond glances play,

In ceaseless blaze, from tree and field !

The cold, bare spot where late we ranged,

The naked woods, are seen no more: This earth to fairy land is changed,

With glittering silver sheeted o'er.

A shower of gems is strewed around;

The flowers of winter, rich and rare; Rubies and sapphires deck the ground;

The topaz, emerald, all are there.

The morning sun, with cloudless rays,

His powerless splendor round us streams; From crusted boughs, and twinkling sprays,

Fly back unloosed the rainbow beams.

With more than summer beauty fair,

The trees in winter's garb are shown : What a rich halo melts in air,

Around their crystal branches thrown!

And yesterday-how changed the view

From what then charmed us! when the sky Hung, with its dim and watery hue,

O'er all the soft, still prospect nigh.

The distant groves, arrayed in white,

Might then like things unreal seem, Just shown awhile in silvery light,

The fictions of a poet's dream;

Like shadowy groves upon that shore,

O’er which Elysium's twilight lay,

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