Hark to my music in the dewy dark!

I am the voice of night :

My melody can live without the light;

I am not like the lark.

He can the air in sunshine only fill,

He is the sun's own bird:

To him he soars and sings, but I am heard

When all is dark and still.

And is there not another voice that thou

Canst hear when all is still?

Is there not one that doth thy silence fill

As doth my own voice now?

Oh nightingale, that note hath probed my soul;

I know a voice, indeed,

That, sweet to me in pleasure and at need,

Doth all my heart control.

By day its music mingles with the rest,

Delighting those who hear;

But when, alone, it meets my midnight ear,

What other sound so blest?

E'en more companion of the dark than thou,

It never flies away;

I do not blame thee, no; thou canst not stay: She cannot leave my bough.

Oh! nightingale, still court my woodland shade,

And let me hear again,

And still for evermore, the enchanting strain, That thus shall be repaid—

Henceforth when noiseless hours of night prevail,

And on mine ear there fall

That other voice, like thine, its note I'll call Note of my nightingale!

SUPPOSED TO BE ADDRESSED BY A BASKET OF

FLOWERS TO A LADY IN LONDON.

E

RE yet the rising sun had smiled,

Or kissed away the dew,

A kindless hand the lawn defiled,

And snatched us where we grew;

Then to this prison sad consigned
Our blossoms once so gay,

And while for lost, loved home we pined,

Withdrew us far away.

Do thou, fair maid, with gentler hand

Thy gentle care bestow,

And lend in this, a stranger-land,

Some solace to our woe.

If worthy of such bliss we seem,
We'll seek a queen in thee,

And, filled with water from the stream, Thy vase our home shall be.

There all our simple art we'll try

Thy dulness to beguile,

We'll court the sunshine of thine eye,

And imitate thy smile.

So when our fragrance faints and dies, And here we cease to shine,

Our blooms in fairyland shall rise,

Because we once were thine!

ENIGMA.

" in the

Suggested by a ludicrous omission of the letter " word "friends," in a marriage announcement.

I

AM a liquid, but to drought belong,

Though in the right am always in the wrong, Buried in earth, I float aloft in air,

Linked with repose, I'm never free from care;

In

very midst of torrid heat I roll,

In arctic frost, but never reach the Pole,
Yet in the sky, at greater distance far,

I shine attendant on the Polar Star.

With morn I rise, and lead the sun's red ray,
But no one ever sees me in the day;

Nor yet in dewy eve I take delight,

And though in darkness do not know the night.

With double sound I aid old Ocean's roar,

Sail with the barque, but never leave the shore; No river rolls but I control its banks,

Soldiers and sailors hail me in their ranks,