FAIRYLAND.

BY LAURA M. COLVIN.

Sleeps the old woodland through midsummer night!

Its leafy arches, spreading far away,

Are still, and silvered by the pale moonlight,

From gnarled branch unto the tiniest spray.

O'er the soft moss-beds, by the streamlet's sheen,

And o'er the greensward, are the folded flowers;

A heaven of azure o'er the beauteous scene,

Doth watch the gliding of serenest hours.

The moon smiles fair upon the greenwood glade,

The red lips of the rose new fragrance shed,

And stealing forth, in radiant robes arrayed,

What sprites are those that merry measures tread?

These are the revels of the Fairyland—

It is Titania and her gentle band!

BY CLARK GADDIS.

O'er bleak Acadia's plains, where blow

From arctic piles an icy breath,

And earth is wrapped in shrouds of snow,

As if that earth lay cold in death,

I roam, as strangers sadly roam—

For every step its distance lends

From those, the cherished ones at home,

And constant friends.

Still fondly in my breast I wear

(And kindly every feeling glows)

The images of clear ones, where

The loved at home in peace repose:

From distant lands, where'er I roam,

To thee my heart still fondly tends,

My mother, sisters, brother, home,

And constant friends.

Ye are the sunshine on my path,

Dispelling gloom amid the shade;

Though hope that led my boyhood, hath

All withered or all been betrayed;

Still ye are true! where'er I roam

I know for me the prayer ascends

From those, the cherished ones at home,

And constant friends.