A PRISONER.
For the Southern Literary Messenger.
MR. T. W. WHITE.
Dear Sir:—You have been so kind as to solicit something from my pen for your interesting periodical. With great pleasure I transmit the enclosed sheets, in the hope that you may find them suitable to the Messenger.
The subject I consider as particularly congenial with this delightful season, which has been truly said to constitute the "great jubilee of nature;" awakening our sympathy with young life, and drawing our attention to the promise and hazards of the vegetable creation, amid the cheerful labors of agriculture.
| Nunc omnis ager, nunc omnis parturit arbos; Nunc frondent sylvæ, nunc formosissimus annus. |
But I am sure that my subject has an interest, independent of the delightful associations of the season at which I write, and that most of your readers will be ever ready to exclaim in the gallant strain of the sweet Irish Bard,
| Oh woman! whose form and whose soul Are the spell and the light of each path we pursue! Whether sunn'd in the tropics, or chill'd at the pole, If woman be there, there is happiness too! |