BRING FLOWERS.

Young bride,

a prayer for thee,

That all thy hopes possessing,

Thy soul may praise her God, and He
May crown thee with His blessing.

85

BRING FLOWERS.

MRS. HEMANS.

BRING flowers, young flowers, for the festal board, To wreathe the cup ere the wine is poured;

Bring flowers! they are springing in wood and vale, Their breath floats out on the southern gale;

And the touch of the sunbeam hath waked the rose, To deck the hall where the bright wine flows.

Bring flowers to strew in the conqueror's path;
He hath shaken thrones with his stormy wrath;
He comes with the spoils of nations back,
The vines lie crushed in his chariot's track,
The turf looks red where he won the day.
Bring flowers to die in the conqueror's way!

Bring flowers to the captive's lonely cell;
They have tales of the joyous woods to tell,
Of the free blue streams and the glowing sky,
And the bright world shut from his languid eye;
They will bear him a thought of the sunny hours,
And the dream of his youth; bring him flowers, wild
flowers!

Bring flowers, fresh flowers, for the bride to wear;
They were born to blush in her shining hair.
She is leaving the home of her childhood's mirth,
She hath bid farewell to her father's hearth,
Her place is now by another's side

Bring flowers for the locks of the fair young bride!

Bring flowers, pale flowers, o'er the bier to shed,
A crown for the brow of the early dead!

For this through its leaves hath the white rose burst,
For this in the woods was the violet nursed;

Though they smile in vain for what once was ours, They are love's last gift; bring ye flowers, pale flowers!

Bring flowers to the shrine where we kneel in prayer ·
They are nature's offering, their place is there;
They speak of hope to the fainting heart,
With a voice of promise they come and part;
They sleep in dust through the wintry hours,

They break forth in glory; bring flowers, bright flowers!

SOLITUDE.

BYRON.

THERE is a pleasure in the pathless woods,
There is a rapture on the lonely shore,
There is society where none intrudes
By the deep sea, and music in its roar.
I love not man the less, but nature more,

FOR A' THAT AND A' THAT.

From these our interviews in which I steal
From all I may be, or have been before,

To mingle with the universe, and feel

What I can ne'er express, yet cannot all conceal.

FOR A' THAT AND A' THAT.

87

BURNS.

Is there, for honest poverty,

That hangs his head, and a' that;
The coward-slave, we pass him by,
We dare be poor, for a' that!
For a' that, and a' that,

Our toil's obscure, an' a' that,
The rank is but the guinea's stamp,
The man's the gowd for a' that.

What though on hamcly fare we dine.
Wear hoddin gray, and a' that?

Gi'e fools their silks, and knaves their wine.

A man's a man for a' that;

For a' that, an' a' that,

Their tinsel show, and a' that;

The honest man, though e'er sae poor.

Is king o' men for a' that.

Ye see yon birkie, ca'd a lord,

Wha struts, and stares, and a' that;
Though hundreds worship at his word,
He's but a coof for a' that;

88

KNOWLEDGE AND WISDOM.

For a' that, an' a' that,

His ribbon, star, and a' that,
The man of independent mind,
He looks an' laughs at a' that.

A prince can mak a belted knight,
A marquis, duke, and a' that;
But an honest man's aboon his might,
Guid faith he mauna fa' that.
For a' that, and a' that,

Their dignities, an' a' that,

The pith o' sense and pride o' worth
Are higher ranks than a' that.

Then let us pray that come it may,
As come it will for a' that,

That sense and worth, o'er a' the earth,
Should bear the gree, and a' that.

For a' that, an' a' that,

It's coming yet, for a' that,
That man to man, the warld o'er,
Shall brothers be for a' that.

KNOWLEDGE AND WISDOM.

COWPER.

KNOWLEDGE and wisdom, far from being one, Have ofttimes no connection. Knowledge dwells In heads replete with thoughts of other men; Wisdom in minds attentive to their own.

NOVEMBER.

Knowledge - a rude, unprofitable mass,

89

The mere materials with which Wisdom builds,
Till smoothed, and squared, and fitted to its place –
Does but encumber whom it seems to enrich.
Knowledge is proud that he has learned so much;
Wisdom is humble that he knows no more.

NOVEMBER.

BRYANT.

LET one smile more, departing, distant sun,
One mellow smile through the soft, vaporing air,
Ere o'er the frozen earth the loud winds run,

Or snows are sifted o'er the meadows bare;
One smile on the brown hills and naked trees;
And the dark rocks whose summer wreaths are cast,
And the blue gentian flower, that in the breeze
Nods lonely, of her beauteous race the last.
Yet a few sunny days, in which the bee

Shall murmur by the hedge that skirts the way, The cricket chirp upon the russet lea,

And man delight to linger in the ray.

Yet one rich smile, and we will try to bear

The piercing winter frost, and winds, and darkened

air.