And sweet is all the land about, and all the All in the wild March morning I heard the flowers that blow,

angels call:

And sweeter far is death than life to me that It was when the moon was setting and the

long to go.

It seemed so hard at first, mother, to leave the blessed sun,

And now it seems as hard to stay; and yet

His will be done!

dark was over all;

The trees began to whisper and the wind began to roll,

And in the wild March morning I heard them call my soul.

But still I think it can't be long before I find For, lying broad awake, I thought of you release, and Effie dear: And that good man the clergyman has told I saw you sitting in the house, and I no me words of peace.

Oh, blessings on his kindly voice and on his silver hair,

And blessings on his whole life long, until he

meet me there!

longer here;

With all my strength I prayed for both, and so I felt resigned,

Oh, blessings on his kindly heart and on his I thought that it was fancy, and I listened in silver head!

my bed,

A thousand times I blest him as he knelt And then did something speak to me: I beside my bed.

He taught me all the mercy, for he showed me all the sin:

Now, though my lamp was lighted late, there's One will let me in;

know not what was said,

For great delight and shuddering took hold of all my mind,

And up the valley came again the music on the wind.

Nor would I now be well, mother, again, if But you were sleeping, and I said, "It's not that could be, for them it's mine;"

For my desire is but to pass to Him that And if it comes three times, I thought, I

died for me.

I did not hear the dog howl, mother, or the death-watch beat:

There came a sweeter token when the night

and morning meet;

take it for a sign.

And once again it came, and close beside the window-bars,

Then seemed to go right up to heaven and die among the stars.

But sit beside my bed, mother, and put your So now I think my time is near. I trust it hand in mine,

is. I know

And Effie on the other side, and I will tell The blessed music went that way my soul will have to go.

the sign.

And to Robin a kind word, and tell him The thing we planned it out ere hope was

The voice that now is speaking may be be- But when he sleeps and smiles upon my

And what is life, that we should moan? I think of one-Heaven help and pity Why make we such ado?

But blame us women not if some appear
Too cold at times, and some too gay and
light:

For ever free. The great eternal scheme,
Involving all, and in a perfect whole
Uniting, as the prospect wider spreads

Some griefs gnaw deep; some woes are hard To Reason's eye refined clears up apace. to bear.

Who knows the past? and who can judge Ye vainly wise, ye blind presumptuous, now
us right?
Confounded in the dust, adore that Power
And Wisdom oft arraigned; see now the

Ah! were we judged by what we might have
been,

And not by what we are, too apt to fall! My little child-he sleeps and smiles be

tween

cause

Why unassuming worth in secret lived,
And died neglected; why the good man's
share

In life was gall and bitterness of soul;

These thoughts and me. In heaven we Why the lone widow and her orphans pined

shall know all.

EDWARD ROBERT BULWER LYTTON.

REWARD OF VIRTUE.

AH! whither now are fled Those dreams of greatness, those unsullied hopes

Of happiness, those longings after fame,
Those restless cares, those busy, bustling

days,

Those gay-spent, festive nights, those veering thoughts,

In starving solitude, while Luxury
In palaces lay straining her low thought
To form unreal wants; why heaven-born
Truth

And Moderation fair wore the red marks
Of Superstition's scourge; why licensed
Pain-

That cruel spoiler, that embosomed foe-
Imbittered all our bliss. Ye good distressed,
Ye noble few who here unbending stand
Beneath life's pressure, yet bear up a while,
And what your bounded view, which only

saw

A little part, deemed evil is no more:

Lost between good and ill, that shared thy The storms of wintry time will quickly pass,

life?

All now are vanished. Virtue sole survives,
Immortal never-failing friend of man,
His guide to happiness on high. And see!
'Tis come, the glorious morn-the second
-birth

Of heaven and earth. Awakening Nature
hears

The new-creating word and starts to life,
In every heightened form from pain and
death

His Grace, who smarts, may bellow if he | Her soft tresses tickle your whisker,

Burdens like these vile earthly buildings Replies, "I delight in these crushes:

Though you feel that your touch is pro- Oh visions that madly you cherish !