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310   LYDIA JANE PEIRSON.

And spotted fawns, in mossy nook,
Have closed their wild, bright eyes;—
While from the giant tree,
And fairy of the sod,
A dreamy wind-harp melody
Speaks to the soul of God;
Whose beauteous gifts of love
The passing hours unfold,
Till e'en the sombre hemlock boughs
Are tipped with fringe of gold.

Come, when the sun is set,
And see along the west
Heaven's glory, streaming through the gate
By which he pass'd to rest.
While brooklets, as the flow
Beneath the cool sweet bowers,
Sing fairy legends, soft and low,
To groups of listening flowers;
And creeping formless shades
Make distance strange and dim,
And with the daylight softly fades
The wild bird's evening hymn.

Come, when the woods are dark,
And winds go fluttering by,
While here and there a phantom bark
Floats in the deep blue sky;
While gleaming far away
Beyond th' aerial flood,
Lies in its starry majesty
The city of our God.



LYDIA JANE PEIRSON.   311

THE BRIDE OF HEAVEN.

How beautiful she lies, upon her pure white bed,
While pale flowers o'er her brow a holy incense shed;
The eyelids tremble not, so peaceful is her rest,
That even her maiden heart lies silent in her breast.

Why o'er the sweet calm face, fond mother, dost thou weep?
Wouldst thou awake thy child from such a quiet sleep?
She is asleep with Him whose love alone is pure,
Within whose presence bliss shall evermore endure.

No grief, no care, no pain, can ever pierce her heart,
No loved voice say again, "sweet sister, we must part!"
The living waters sweet have quench'd her spirit's thirst,
And on her soul the light of Holiness has burst.

Why weep we then for her whose days of pain are o'er?
Bright hands have wiped her tears, and she shall shed no more.
To agony and tears the brides of earth are given—
Oh! bless her, as she lies, the pure young bride of Heaven.


SUNSET IN THE FOREST.

Come now unto the Forest, and enjoy
The loveliness of nature.  Look abroad
And note the tender beauty and repose
Of the magnificent, in earth and sky.
See what a radiant smile of golden light
O'erspreads the face of heaven; while the west
Burns like a living ruby, in the ring
Of the deep green horizon.  Now the shades
Are deepening round the feet of the tall trees,
Bending the head of the pale blossoms down
Upon their mother's bosom, where the breeze
Comes with a low sweet hymn and balmy kiss,