The waves were white, and red the morn, In the noisy hour when I was born; The

whale it whistled, the porpoise rolled, And the dolphins bared their backs of

gold; And never was heard such an outcry wild, As welcomed to life the ocean

child. I have lived, since then, in calm and strife, Full fifty summers a

rover's life, With wealth to spend, and a power to range, But never have sought

or sighed for change: And death, whenever he comes to me, Shall come on the

wide, unbounded sea!

 

--BARRY CORNWALL.

 

The sun does not shine for a few trees and flowers, but for the wide world's

joy. The lonely pine upon the mountain-top waves its sombre boughs, and cries,

"Thou art my sun." And the little meadow violet lifts its cup of blue, and

whispers with its perfumed breath, "Thou art my sun." And the grain in a

thousand fields rustles in the wind, and makes answer, "Thou art my sun." And so

God sits effulgent in Heaven, not for a favored few, but for the universe of

life; and there is no creature so poor or so low that he may not look up with

child-like confidence and say, "My Father! Thou art mine."

 

--HENRY WARD BEECHER.

 

_THE LARK_

 

Bird of the wilderness, Blithesome and cumberless, Sweet be thy matin o'er

moorland and lea! Emblem of happiness, Blest is thy dwelling-place: Oh, to abide