Where, answering to the sudden shot, thin smoke, Through thick-leaved branches, from the dingle

broke.

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.

LONGFELLOW.

THE FOREST STREAM.

DELIGHTFUL is this loneliness; it calms

My heart:pleasant the cool beneath these elms
That throw across the stream a moveless shade.
Here Nature in her mid-noon whisper speaks;

How peaceful every sound! the ring-dove's plaint,
Moaned from the forest's gloomiest retreat,

While every other woodland lay is mute,)

Save when the wren flits from her down-coved nest,

And from the root-sprigs trills her ditty clear,
The grasshopper's oft-pausing chirp (the buzz,
Angrily shrill, of moss-entangled bee,