SURE, my dear Mary, 't is a pleasing scene,
Where youthful virtue spreads its joys serene,
When childhood strives in learning to improve
And follows science from esteem and love.
In all the regions of terrestrial bliss,
Where is the pleasure half so pure as this?
Yes, and how many children are denied
The high advantages to us supplied ! —
How many, doomed in ignorance to pine,
Want charms that make the soul still more divine.
Yet I am told that some are pleased to say,
Our steps in learning's realm are led astray.
There is no need, they say, that we should know
How many oceans round this world may flow-
How many brilliant planets, hung on high,
Trace their bright orbits through the vaulted sky;
Nor will it help to boil our tea, we 're told,
That we should know what causes heat and cold.
Yet will it aid in many an untried scene,
When doubts may press and troubles intervene,
To know the philosophic cause of things,
And whence each incident and error springs,
If our young minds are with good learning stored,
And all the aids that science can afford.
Then must our friends admire, while they approve,
That we make truth the object of our love,
And take pure science and the gentle arts,
Instead of vanity, to our young hearts.
But most they say, our speaking has no use,
And only serves to make our morals loose.
Nay, if it makes us more intent to please,
Gives our minds freedom and our manners ease,
For harder studies heightens our regard,
With little harm it brings a good reward.
Then since our friends have sought so much to find
The highest arts to store our youthful mind,
O! let us seek with grateful hearts to show
How much we love, if not how much we know.
Accept, then, guardians of our youthful minds,
The thanks that real candor ever finds.
'Tis by your provident and fostering care
That we the stores of worth and learning share.
Then, while we strive in science to excel,
May we obtain the praise of doing well;
And, though in many things we fail to please,
May all our future joys be pure as these;
May peace and pleasure to this life be given,
And to the next the higher bliss of heaven.
I LOVE to walk at twilight,
When sunset nobly dies,
And see the parting splendor
That lightens up the skies,
And call up old remembrances,
Deep, dim as evening gloom,
Or look to heaven's promises,
Like starlight on a tomb.
I love the hour of darkness,
When I give myself to sleep,
And I think that holy angels
Their watch around me keep.
My dreams are light and happy,
As I innocently lie,
For my mother's kiss is on my cheek, And my father's step is nigh.
I love the social afternoon,
When lessons all are said, Geography is laid aside,
And grammar put to bed;
Then a walk upon the Battery,
With a friend, is very sweet,
And some money for an ice-cream,
To give that friend a treat.
I love the Sabbath evening,
When my loved ones sit around,
And tell of all their feelings
By hope and fancy crowned;
And though some plants are missing
In that sweetly thoughtful hour,
I would not call them back again
To earth's decaying bower.
A Dialogue for eight little Girls.
THE stars that gem the brow of night
Are very beautiful and bright;
They look upon us, from the skies,
With such serene and holy eyes,
That I have fondly deemed them worlds
Where Joy her banner never furls.
What marvel, then, that I should love
The stars that shine so bright above?
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