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SAMUEL WOODWORTH.

Every hope thy offspring is,
Beaming from futurity.

Every sun of splendid ray,

Every moon that shines serene, Every morn that welcomes day,

Every evening's twilight scene, Every hour that wisdom brings, Every incense at thy shrine, These, and all life's holiest things, And its fairest, all are thine.

And for all, my hymns shall rise
Daily to thy gracious throne;
Thither let my asking eyes

Turn unwearied, righteous One'!
Through life's strange vicissitude,
There reposing all my care;
Trusting still, through ill and good,
Fixed, and cheered, and counselled
there.

SAMUEL WOODWORTH.

[U. s. A., 1785 1842.]

THE BUCKET.

How dear to this heart are the scenes of my childhood,

When fond recollection presents them to view!

The orchard, the meadow, the deep-tangled wildwood,

And every loved spot which my infancy knew!

The wide-spreading pond, and the mill that stood by it,

The bridge, and the rock where the cataract fell,

The cot of my father, the dairy-house

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And e'en the rude bucket that hung in the well, The old oaken bucket, the iron-bound bucket,

The moss-covered bucket, which hung in the well.

That moss-covered vessel I hailed as a treasure;

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I found it the source of an exquisite pleasure,

The purest and sweetest that nature can yield.

How ardent I seized it, with hands that were glowing,

And quick to the white-pebbled bottom it fell;

Then soon, with the emblem of truth overflowing,

And dripping with coolness, it rose from the well,

The old oaken bucket, the iron-bound bucket,

The moss-covered bucket, arose from the well.

How sweet from the green, mossy brim to receive it,

As, poised on the curb, it inclined to my lips!

Not a full, blushing goblet could tempt
me to leave it,

Though filled with the nectar that
Jupiter sips.

And now, far removed from the loved
habitation,

The tears of regret will intrusively

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AFTER A SUMMER SHOWER.

THE rain is o'er. How dense and bright
Yon pearly clouds reposing lie!
Cloud above cloud, a glorious sight,
Contrasting with the dark blue sky!

In grateful silence earth receives

The general blessing; fresh and fair, Each flower expands its little leaves, As glad the common joy to share.

For often at noon, when returned from The softened sunbeams pour around

the field,

A fairy light, uncertain, pale;

The wind flows cool; the scented ground
Is breathing odors on the gale.

Mid yon rich clouds' voluptuous pile,
Methinks some spirit of the air
Might rest, to gaze below awhile,

Then turn to bathe and revel there.

The sun breaks forth; from off the scene
Its floating veil of mist is flung;
And all the wilderness of green

With trembling drops of light is hung.

Now gaze on Nature, yet the same,
Glowing with life, by breezes fanned,
Luxuriant, lovely, as she came,
Fresh in her youth, from God's own hand.

Hear the rich music of that voice,

Which sounds from all below, above; She calls her children to rejoice,

And round them throws her arms oflove.

Drink in her influence; low-born care, And all the train of mean desire, Refuse to breathe this holy air,

And mid this living light expire.

CAROLINE BOWLES SOUTHEY.

[1787-1854.]

MARINER'S HYMN.

LAUNCH thy bark, mariner!
Christian, God speed thee!
Let loose the rudder-bands, -
Good angels lead thee!
Set thy sails warily,
Tempests will come;
Steer thy course steadily:
Christian, steer home!

Look to the weather-bow,
Breakers are round thee;
Let fall the plummet now,
Shallows may ground thee.
Reef in the foresail, there!
Hold the helm fast!
So let the vessel wear-
There swept the blast.

"What of the night, watchman?
What of the night?”
"Cloudy-all quiet-

No land yet all 's right."

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I said to cold Neglect and Scorn,
I heed you not;
Ye may pursue me till my form
And being are forgot;
Yet still the spirit, which you see
Undaunted by your wiles,
Draws from its own nobility
Its highborn smiles.

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