Dejected and sad, and a pris'ner at home,
I gaz'd from my window, I travers'd my room;
Till, wearied and moody, the long-wish'd-for night,
Closing gently around, wrapp'd the whole from
my sight.

I 'woke the next day: what a cheerful surprise! Oh, how chang'd! what a scene met my wondering eyes!

The snow was all gone, not an icicle seen;
And nature again wore her liv'ry of green.

And what magic, what charm, could have scatter'd so soon,

The darkness that hung over yesterday's noon? E'en the birds seem'd delighted, and perch'd on

each spray,

Were chanting their hymn to the God of the day

'Tis the birthday, I cried, tis the birthday of one, O'er whose features good humour has evermore shone;

To whom bountiful nature has given a grace, That thrills through her frame and illumines her face.

And could nature then smile on a season so fair; Could she sadden her looks, or assume a rough

air:

Ah no! she relax'd from her gloom for awhile, And bless'd the whole world once again with a smile.

You have seen a cloud frown as it sweeps through the air ;

And, anon, the sun's beams in their splendour

appear;

E'en thus, too, it is with the theme of my lay; Darkness self she converts to the brightness of

day.

And thus may it be as her life glides along: May she see Nature smile, and hear the bird's

song:

E

Thus pass through the world, till she reach to

that rest,

Where cheerfulness reigns, in the realms of the

bless'd.

TO THE SAME ON HER WEDDING DAY.

Dear girl, full well thou know'st the mind
Of him who pens these simple lines;
A heart that's fraught with feelings kind
That to thy ev'ry good inclines.

In early childhood's playful days,

When ev'ry act was free from guile,

I've watch'd thy little winning ways,
And joy'd to see thy artless smile.

I've joy'd to see thy parent's eye
In silent gaze peruse thy face,
While heaving many a tender sigh,
It seem'd thy future fate to trace.

I've joy'd to see thy rip'ning years

To learning and instruction bend; Pursue Religion's path, that steers

But to a bless'd and happy end.

Nor wonder that some anxious thought
Should now possess my swelling breast,

When well I know this hour is fraught
With that which marr's, or makes thee

No more in sportive giddy maze,

Must frolic now the artless child; No more the girl must pass her days In merry game, and spirits wild.

Duty now calls to other views,

[bless'd.

From childish trifles, romp, and play;

Such as present far diff'rent hues,

From those which ting'd thy earlier days.

Those thoughts which once were free as air, And left thee to thyself alone,