While stranger-throngs roll by, thy song is lending
Joy to the happy, soothings to the sad;

O'er my full heart it flows with gentle blending,
And I am glad.

And I will sing, though dear ones, loved and loving, Are left afar in my sweet nest of home;

Though from that nest, with backward yearnings moving, Onward I roam!

And with heart-music shall my feeble aiding
Still swell the note of human joy aloud;
Nor, with untrusting soul kind Heaven upbraiding,
Sigh 'mid the crowd.

"WHICH IS THE BEAUTY?"

I SEE her; 't is she with her large dark eyes,
That glance like light over evening skies;
Her hair in ringlets fluttering free,
And her lips that move with melody.

"Not she. There's a beauty I higher prize Than the fringed glance of those radiant eyes."

I see her; 't is she of the ivory brow
And heaven-tinged orbs: I know her now,
With her glancing step, and look of life,
And voice out-breaking in music's strife.

"Not she. There's a beauty that lovelier glows, Though her coral lip with melody flows."

Then it must be she of the brilliant mind,
With her spirit attuned to the thoughts refined,
With her high look soaring away, away,
To ideal worlds where angels stray.

"Not she. There 's another more lovely still, With a chastened mind, and a tempered will."

I see her, 't is goodness that gilds her brow,
Like the sun on the fruit of an autumn bough;
I can read her heart like an opening book,
Through each change serene of her innocent look,

"Yes; this is the beauty that blossoms fair, And will blossom for aye, in life's garden of care."

ΤΟ

ON pure and gentle ones, within your ark
Securely rest!

Blue be the sky above-your quiet bark
By soft winds blest!

Still toil in duty, and commune with Heaven,
World-weaned and free:

God to his humblest creatures room has given, space to be.

And

Space for the eagle in the vaulted sky
To plume his wing-

Space for the ring-dove by her young to lie,
And softly sing.

Space for the sun-flower, bright with yellow glow,

To court the sky

Space for the violet, where the wild woods grow,
To live and die.

Space for the ocean, in its giant might,
To swell and rave-

Space for the river, tinged with rosy light,
Where green banks wave.

Space for the sun, to tread his path in might
And golden pride-

Space for the glow-worm, calling, by her light,
Love to her side.

Then, pure and gentle ones, within your ark
Securely rest!

Blue be the the skies above, and your still bark
By kind winds blest.

CHILDREN AT PLAY.

SPORT on; sport on;

A mother's thought, shadow of heavenly love,
Dwells on you. In her home, 'mid household cares,
Kindle up hopes, which deep in its soft folds
Her inmost soul has wrapt. She musing asks,—
"What his high fate, that boy with eagle eye,
And well-knit limbs, and proud impetuous thought?
A patriot, leading men, and breathing forth
His warm soul for his country? or a bard,
With holy song refining earth's cold ear?
A son, holding the torch of love to age

As its closed eye turns dimly to the grave?
Or husband, wrapping with protecting arms,
One who leans on him in her trusting youth?
"And for those girls," she asks," what gentle fate
Lies cradled on the softest down of time?
A rosy lot must garland out their years—
Those sunny eyes with langhing spirits wild,
Those rounded limbs are all unfit for want,
Or sterner care. Gently will they be borne
On beds of flowers, beneath an azure sky."

Oh dreams, fair dreams! God's dower to woman's heart,

Your light and waving curtains still suspend

Before the future, which lies dark behind.

ELIZABETH F. ELLET.

THE literary career of Mrs. Ellet has been brief, but thus far very successful. It is only about three years since she became known as a writer, and already her fame is established as a poetess of much promise, and her elegant translations from the Italian and French poets have proved her an accomplished scholar in those beautiful languages.

Mrs. Ellet was born at shores of Lake Ontario. Her father, the late Doctor Lummis, was a man of learning, and good taste; but he lived at a distance from all learned society-and the advantages of a common school education were, in that retired place, very limited. However, genius does not depend on the schools: Elizabeth was early distinguished for vivacity of intellect and poetical talents; and then she had the good fortune to attract the attention and secure the affections of a congenial mind. This was Doctor William H. Ellet, then Professor of Chemistry, in Columbia College, N. Y. He married her when she was very young, only about seventeen, and under his tuition she immediately commenced the study of the modern languages. He was himself a sound scholar, and possessed much poetical taste: and the proficiency of Mrs. Ellet not only proves her own superior powers of intellect, but also the superior talents and learning of

Sodus, a small town on the