His "Forest Hymn" is familiar to many, but it cannot be too familiar. It would be well if teachers would encourage their pupils to commit the whole, or portions of it, at least, to memory. Let it be made a reading lesson, but, in making it such, let pains be taken to point out its felicities of expression, its beautiful moral tone and lofty sentiment, and its wise counsels for life and conduct. Nothing could be more appropriate, especially for the indoor portion of the Arbor Day exercises, than to have this poem, or portions of it, read by some pupil in full sympathy with its spirit, or by some class in concert.
FOREST HYMN.
The groves were God's first temples, ere man learned
To hew the shaft and lay the architrave
And spread the roof above them, ere he framed
The lofty vault to gather and roll back
The sound of anthems; in the darkling wood,
Amidst the cool and silence, he knelt down
And offered to the Mightiest solemn thanks
And supplications. For his simple heart
Might not resist the sacred influences
Which from the stilly twilight of the place
And from the gray old trunks that high in heaven
Mingled their mossy boughs, and from the sound
Of the invisible breath that swayed at once
All their green tops, stole over him and bowed
His spirit with the thought of boundless power
And inaccessible majesty. Ah, why
Should we, in the world's riper years, neglect
God's ancient sanctuaries and adore
Only among the crowd and under roofs
That our frail hands have raised? Let me, at least,
Here, in the shadow of this ancient wood,
Offer one hymn, thrice happy if it find
Acceptance in His ear.
—Bryant.
JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL.
We can hardly see or think of trees without being reminded of Mr. Lowell, whose death during the last year was so great a loss. He was eminently a lover of trees, and they were the inspiration of some of his best prose and poetry. This love of trees led him to call his pleasant place of residence, in Cambridge, "Elmwood." In making up our selections for reading or recitation on Arbor Day, the writings of no one have been turned to more often, probably, than those of Mr. Lowell, and it will be very proper if we make this year's observance distinguished by the abundance of our extracts from his various works. We may well also plant memorial trees in honor of him. No one is more worthy of such honor, and we can hardly do any better thing than to plant trees which shall bear his name and remind us hereafter of his noble words and noble life. And no memorial of him would be more appropriate or more accordant with his own feelings than a growing tree. This is abundantly shown by the following letter, written only a few years ago, when it was proposed in one of our schools, to plant on Arbor Day, a tree in his memory.
"I can think of no more pleasant way of being remembered than by the planting of a tree. Like whatever things are perennially good, it will be growing while we are sleeping, and will survive us to make others happier. Birds will rest in it and fly thence with messages of good cheer. I should be glad to think that any word or deed of mine could be such a perennial presence of beauty, or show so benign a destiny."
THE OAK.
What gnarled stretch, what depth of shade, is his?