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TO THE HUMBLE BEE.
GOOD-MORROW, gentle humble bee:
To take the air ;
Your visits share.
Saluting now the pied Carnation,
frisk Where Poppies hang their heavy heads, Or where the gorgeous Sun-flower spreads For you
her luscious golden beds, On her broad disk.
To live on pleasure's painted wing,
If it would last :
When summer's past.
For soon will fly the laughing hours,
And winds so keen.
your dry cell be yet unmade, Nor store of wax and honey laid
In magazine ?
Then, Lady Buzz, you will repent,
And idly lost.
from frost ?
Ah! haste your winter stock to save,
You may remain :
MRS. C. SMITH.
THE VISIBLE CREATION.
THE God of nature and of grace
In all his works appears ;
His grandeur in the spheres.
Behold this fair and fertile globe,
By Him in wisdom plann'd ; 'Twas He who girded, like a robe,
The ocean round the land.
Lift to the firmament your eye,
Thither his path pursue ;
O’erwhelms the wondering view.
He bows the heavens the mountains stand
A highway for their God;
'Tis Eden where He trod.
The forests in his strength rejoice;
Hark! on the evening breeze,
Is heard among the trees.
Here on the hills He feeds his herds,
His flocks on yonder plains :
O could we catch their strains !
Mount with the lark, and bear our song
Up to the gates of light,
Our numbers through the night!
In every stream his bounty flows,
Diffusing joy and wealth ;
The breath of life and health.
His blessings fall in plenteous showers
Upon the lap of earth,
And rings with infant mirth.
If God hath made this world so fair,
Where sin and death abound,
TO A WATERFOWL.
WHITHER, ʼmidst falling dew, While glow the heavens with the last steps of day, Far, through their rosy depths, dost thou pursue
Thy solitary way?
Vainly the fowler's eye
Thy figure floats along.
Seek'st thou the plashy brink
On the chaf'd ocean side ?
There is a Power whose care
Lone wandering, but not lost.
All day thy wings have fann'd,
Though the dark night is near.
And soon that toil shall end ; Soon shalt thou find a summer home, and rest, And scream among thy fellows ; reeds shall bend,
Soon, o'er thy shelter'd nest.
Thou’rt gone, the abyss of heaven
And shall not soon depart.
He who from zone to zone, Guides through the boundless sky thy certain flight, In the long way that I must tread alone, Will lead my steps aright.
THE LILIES OF THE FIELD.
Lo, the lilies of the field,
Say, with richer crimson glows
“ One there lives, whose guardian eye