THE OLD MAN'S COUNSEL.

At first, then fast and faster, till at length They pass'd into a murmur, and were still.

Plumed for their earliest flight. In bright alcoves,
In woodland cottages with barky walls,
In noisome cells of the tumultuous town,
Mothers have clasp'd with joy the new-born babe.
Graves, by the lonely forest, by the shore
Of rivers and of ocean, by the ways
Of the throng'd city, have been hollow'd out,
And fill'd, and closed. This day hath parted friends,
That ne'er before were parted; it hath knit
New friendships; it hath seen the maiden plight
Her faith, and trust her peace to him who long
Hath woo'd; and it hath heard, from lips which late
Were eloquent of love, the first harsh word,
That told the wedded one her peace was flown.
Farewell to the sweet sunshine! One glad day
Is added now to childhood's merry days,
And one calm day to those of quiet age.
Still the fleet hours run on; and as I lean
Amid the thickening darkness, lamps are lit
By those who watch the dead, and those who twine
Flowers for the bride. The mother from the eyes
Of her sick infant shades the painful light,
And sadly listens to his quick-drawn breath.

O thou great Movement of the universe,
Or Change, or Flight of Time-for ye are one!
That bearest, silently, this visible scene
Into Night's shadow, and the streaming rays
Of starlight, whither art thou bearing me?
I feel the mighty current sweep me on,
Yet know not whither. Man foretells afar
The courses of the stars; the very hour
He knows when they shall darken or grow bright:
Yet doth the eclipse of sorrow and of death
Come unforewarned. Who next, of those I love,
Shall pass from life, or, sadder yet, shall fall
From virtue? Strife with foes, or bitterer strife
With friends, or shame, and general scorn of

men

Which, who can bear?—or the fierce rack of pain,
Lie they within my path? Or shall the years
Push me, with soft and inoffensive pace,
Into the stilly twilight of my age?

Or do the portals of another life,

Even now,
while I am glorying in my strength,
Impend around me? O! beyond that bourne,
In the vast cycle of being, which begins

At that broad threshold, with what fairer forms
Shall the great law of change and progress clothe
Its workings? Gently-so have good men taught―
Gently, and without grief, the old shall glide
Into the new, the eternal flow of things,
Like a bright river of the fields of heaven,
Shall journey onward in perpetual peace.

Even here do I behold

Thy steps, Almighty!-here, amidst the crowd
Through the great city roll'd,

With everlasting murmur, deep and loud-
Choking the ways that wind

'Mongst the proud piles, the work of human kind.

Thy golden sunshine comes

From the round heaven, and on their dwellings lies, And lights their inner homes

For them thou fill'st with air the unbounded skies, And givest them the stores

Of ocean, and the harvests of its shores.

Thy spirit is around,

Quickening the restless mass that sweeps along; And this eternal sound

Voices and footfalls of the numberless throngLike the resounding sea,

Or like the rainy tempest, speaks of thee.

And when the hours of rest
Come, like a calm upon the mid-sea brine,
Hushing its billowy breast-

The quiet of that moment, too, is thine;
It breathes of Him who keeps
The vast and helpless city while it sleeps.

TO A WATERFOWL.

WHITHER, 'midst falling dew,

While glow the heavens with the last steps of day, Far, through their rosy depths, dost thou pursue Thy solitary way!

Vainly the fowler's eye

Might mark thy distant flight to do thee wrong,
As, darkly painted on the crimson sky,
Thy figure floats along.

Seek'st thou the plashy brink
Of weedy lake, or marge of river wide,
Or where the rocking billows rise and sink
On the chafed ocean side?

There is a power whose care Teaches thy way along that pathless coast,— The desert and illimitable air,

Lone wandering, but not lost.

All day thy wings have fann'd,

At that far height, the cold, thin atmosphere,
Yet stoop not, weary, to the welcome land,
Though the dark night is near.

And soon that toil shall end;

Soon shalt thou find a summer home, and rest, And scream among thy fellows; reeds shall bend, Soon, o'er thy shelter'd nest.

Thou'rt gone, the abyss of heaven Hath swallow'd up thy form; yet, on my heart Deeply hath sunk the lesson thou hast given, And shall not soon depart.