COTTAGE SMOKE ASCENDING.

The silent smoke in column true
Streams from the poor man's hearth,
Right up into the ether blue,
Uniting heaven and earth.
From lowly hearts thus quiet prayer
Sends up a golden cord
To God's right hand, uniting there
The labourer to his Lord.

SMOKE NOT ASCENDING.

The lolling smoke which clouds the noonday skies
And mars the outline of our orchard trees,
Smirching the buds and blossoms, here supplies
An emblem of the gross ignoble ease
Of apathetic souls, which lost in sloth,
Lifting no thought to heaven, with sordid care
Infect young hearts around, and check the growth
Of aspirations craving purer air.