Part 39

O. W. HOLMES.

28. Morning, with all her attributes; the slow Impearling of the heavens, the sparkling white On the webb'd grass, the fragrant mistiness, The fresh airs, with the twinkling leaves at sport, And all the gradual and emerging light, The crystalline distinctness settling clear, And all the wakening of strengthening sound.

MILMAN--Lord of the Bright City.

29. Her twilight robe when nature wears, And evening sheds her sweetest tears, Which every thirsty plant receives, While silence trembles on the leaves. From every tree, and flower, and bush, There seems to breathe a soothing hush, While every transient sound but shows How deep and still is the repose.

MRS. FOLLEN.

30. When as the evening shades prevail, The moon takes up her wondrous tale, And, nightly, to the listening earth Proclaims the story of her birth. While all the stars that round her burn, And all the planets in their turn, Confirm the tidings as they roll, And spread the truth from pole to pole.

ADDISON.

31. When thronging constellations rush in crowds, Paving with fire the sky.

SHELLEY.

32. A beautiful sunset, when warm o'er the lake Its splendor, at parting, a summer eve throws, Like a bride full of blushes, when lingering to take A last look of her mirror at night ere she goes.

MOORE--Lalla Rookh.

33. The midnight hour, The starlight wedding of the earth and heaven, When music breathes in perfume from the flower, And high revealings to the heart are given.

S. L. FAIRFIELD.

34. Weel may'st thou welcome the night's deathly reign, Wi' souls of the dearest ye're mingling then; The gowd light o' mornin' is lightless to thee, But, oh! for the night wi' its ghost revelrie.

WILLIAM THOM.

35. Come, stir the fire, and close the shutters fast; Let fall the curtains, wheel the sofa round; And while the bubbling and loud hissing urn Throws up a steamy column, and the cups That cheer but not inebriate, wait on each, So will you welcome cheerful evening in.

COWPER--Task.

36. When the moon Bends her new silver bow, as if to fling Her arrowy lustre through some vapor's wing.

PARK BENJAMIN.

37. Be it the summer noon; a sandy space The ebbing tide has left upon its place, While the broad basin of the ocean keeps An equal motion, swelling as it sleeps, Then, slowly sinking, curling to the strand, Faint, lazy waves o'er-creep the ridgy sand. Ships in the calm seem anchor'd, for they glide On the still sea, urged solely by the tide.

CRABBE.

38. Night; when the stars are gemming heaven, And seem like angels' eyes, Resuming still their silent watch Within the far-off skies. When tenderly they gaze on us, Those children of the air, While every ray they send to us Some message seems to bear.

MISS LEWIS.

39. The Sabbath morn So sweet;--all sounds save nature's voice are still; Mute shepherd's song-pipe, mute the harvest horn, A holier tongue is given to brook and rill; Old men climb silently their cottage-hill, There ruminate, and look sublime abroad, Shake from their feet, as thought on thought comes still, The dust of life's long, dark, and dreary road, And rise from this gross earth, and give the day to God.

THOMAS MILLER.

40. When the fair young moon in a silver bow Looks back from the bending west, Like a weary soul that is glad to go To the long-sought place of rest. When her crescent lies in a beaming crown, On the distant hill's dark head, Serene as the righteous looking down On the world from his dying-bed.

MISS H. F. GOULD.

41. When gleaming through the gorgeous fold Of clouds, around his glory roll'd, The orb of gold, half hid, half seen, Swells his rays of tremulous sheen, That, widely as the billows roll, Glance quivering on their distant goal.