THE COMET.

Lone one, wilt thou no signal pass,
Thy mission to declare,
Whether a world-destroying mass,
Or flame-flower of Elysian grass,
Or seraph's burning hair?
Or may be torch from hearth unknown
Upheld by powers unseen,
Each pacing their appointed zone
In mute procession one by one
A thousand years between.
Let Time shake out my dribbling sand;
Who would not die to see
The eternal treasures of a land
Whose glories shine above a strand
With waifs and strays like thee!

THE ROCKET.

The child who sees the rocket fire
Its arch of stars o'er tower and plain,
Laments to find them all expire,
And but a worthless wand remain.
And such with all its soaring sound
Is eloquence despite of art,
Whose flashy flights the ear astound,
But leave no light within the heart.