The silent bending skies,
Will weeping vigils keep;
While myriad glistening starry eyes,
Attend her peaceful sleep.
Far, far beyond those skies,
Where dwell the immortal throng,
Strains of a new-born spirit rise,—
Swells the celestial song.
The tides of rapture roll,
The Heaven's eternal rounds,
As if a union there of souls
Were mingling in the sounds.
O let us weep; away
From that blest land of peace,
We shall not always lingering stay;
Soon will our yearning cease."
A SIMPLE STORY FOR GEORGY.
A nice little duck once took it into his wise head, that he would like to travel, and so get vast stores of learning. Upon hearing that there was to be a grand gathering of all the fowls in the country, he resolved to be present at the exhibition.
So upon a bright balmy day, he was taken in a cage for his carriage, and put in the midst of the mixed assembly. Upon looking round, he soon spied out his near neighbors, the beautiful rough-neck pigeons, who cooed a pleasant welcome.
There he saw great Turkey-gobblers, white Geese, China Fowls, and Chickens of every description. The Guinea-hens frightened him with their loud screams, and for a while, he was perfectly bewildered with the din of the many sounds about him.
Very soon he made the acquaintance of a pretty little Polish couple, who told him they were the descendants of the famous "Thaddeus of Warsaw," and "Sobieski;" and they told him a pathetic story of their many sufferings, and final sad death away from their country.
With the other fowls he could not make any acquaintance, they so stared him out of countenance, from envy of his beautiful plumage. In most disconsolate tones he begged to be taken out of the crowd, and satisfied with this specimen of city life, he was ever afterwards contented with home.