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We pass from out the city's feverish hum,

To find refreshment in the silent woods; And Nature, that is beautiful and dumb,

Like a cool sleep upon the pulses broods. Yet, even there, a restless thought will steal, To teach the indolent heart it still must feel.

Strange, that the audible stillness of the noon,
The waters tripping with their silver feet,
The turning to the light of leaves in June,

And the light whisper as their edges meet— Strange-that they fill not, with their tranquil tone, The spirit, walking in their midst alone.

THE SABBATH.

It was a pleasant morning, in the time

When the leaves fall; and the bright sun shone out
As when the morning stars first shone together-
So quietly and calmly fell his light

Upon a world at rest. There was no leaf
In motion, and the loud winds slept, and all
Was still. The labouring herd was grazing
Upon the hill-side quietly-uncall'd
By the harsh voice of man; and distant sound,
Save from the murmuring waterfall, came not
As usual on the ear. One hour stole on,
And then another of the morning, calm
And still as Eden ere the birth of man;
And then broke in the Sabbath chime of bells,-
And the old man and his descendants went
Together to the house of God. I join'd

T

The well-apparell'd crowd. The holy man

Rose solemnly, and breathed the prayer of faith ; And the grey saint just on the wing for heaven, And the fair maid, and the bright-hair'd young

man,

And child of curling locks, just taught to close
The lash of its blue eye the while,—all knelt
In attitude of prayer; and then the hymn,
Sincere in its low melody, went up
To worship God.

The white-hair'd Pastor rose,
And look'd upon his flock; and with an eye
That told his interest, and voice that spoke
In tremulous accents eloquence like Paul's,
He lent Isaiah's fire to the great truths
Of Revelation, and persuasion came
Like gushing waters from his lips, till hearts
Unused to bend were soften'd, and the eye
Unwont to weep sent forth the willing tear.

I went my way; but as I went I felt
How well it was that the world-weary soul
Should have its times to set its burden down.

MISCELLANEOUS POEMS.

THE HARE AND MANY FRIENDS.

A HARE, who, in a civil way,
Complied with everything, like GAY,
Was known to all the bestial train,
Who haunt the wood, or graze the plain.

As forth she went at early dawn,
To taste the dew-besprinkled lawn,
Behind she hears the hunter's cries,
And from the deep-mouthed thunder flies:
She starts, she stops, she pants for breath;
She hears the near advance of death;
She doubles, to mislead the hound,
And measures back her mazy round;
Till, fainting in the public way,
Half dead with fear she gasping lay.

What transport in her bosom grew,
When first the Horse appear'd in view!
"Let me," says she, “your back ascend,
And owe my safety to a friend.
You know my feet betray my flight;
To friendship every burden's light."
The Horse replied, "Poor honest puss,
It grieves my heart to see you thus:
Be comforted; relief is near,
For all your friends are in the rear."

She next the stately Bull implored;
And thus replied the mighty lord:
"Since every beast alive can tell
That I sincerely wish you well,

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